


black diamonds

by nirvhannahcornell (josiebelladonna)



Category: Anthrax (US Band), Bandom, Metallica
Genre: Coffee Shops, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dancing, Dark Romance, Double Life, Erotica, Europe, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Forbidden Love, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Making Out, Mild Smut, Post-Punk, Punk Rock, Romance, Seattle, Smut, Sneaking Around, Sneaky Bastards, Touring, Tragic Romance, Wall Sex, class and sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 48,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josiebelladonna/pseuds/nirvhannahcornell
Summary: Former professional dancer Virginia "Ginny" Goldstein has found herself in quite the tight spot with a crumbling marriage to her high school sweetheart. That is, until two freak meetings recollect her memory of days gone by. Hypnotized by his voice coupled with their power, she's met with a decision: to run off with them and risk losing them to an outdated life, or to return home to her longtime source of comfort."Black diamond, also known as carbonado, is the toughest form of natural diamond, formed with amorphous carbon, diamond, and graphite. The name itself also refers to hematite, or iron ore; anthracite, or 'hard coal'; boron carbide, the hardest substance known to man next to diamond and boron nitride. It may also refer to pure coal, the polar opposite of diamonds which are associated with riches."
Relationships: Joey Belladonna/Original Female Character
Kudos: 2





	1. the girl, the ferry, and the stoplight

**Author's Note:**

> After some convincing to myself, I decided to put this here in the safe place.  
> An "on-the-side" to now it's dark, nothing special with this one: just another love letter to Joey and the boys as well as an homage to the world of post-punk and new wave 💜

June, 1986. Bainbridge Island, Washington.  
The sound of Lily crying down the hall awakes me. I lay there for a moment but I figure she's hungry given we have hardly anything to eat in the kitchen and my last paycheck bounced. Add to this, he's too lazy to do anything but lounge around the house. I do know we have coffee and cream for myself, but as far as breakfast goes, my hope is that her teachers put out extra snacks for all the children at her preschool. I glance over at the time on the nightstand: six fifteen. I have to get up anyway, whether or not I have a daughter.  
I climb out of our queen sized bed and slip my feet into the shabby salmon colored slippers on the floor. Ben's snores follow me out to the hall and fade out to Lily's cries. I reach her room and I’m met with the sight of her sitting upright in her bed; the straight jet black hair she inherited from me dangles in her face like a thin curtain. I take a seat there on the edge of the bed and push the hair out of her face. Her skin is hot and a little clammy. She did suffer from colic shortly after she was born after all, but now she's susceptible to fevers.  
Such is my life as a suburban wife on the left side of the Puget Sound with a three year old daughter and a husband who would rather do shoddy labor work when he's not intoxicated.  
I discovered the dark side of life upon reading Interview with the Vampire but it was watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s I knew I was going to be an actress, a star, and a dancer for Led Zeppelin and for Journey, donned in my black dresses and with my hair done up atop my head with red and blue streaks. Everyone I knew already called me “the Black Diamond” as a result. I was going to move away from the Olympic Peninsula and to New York: there's simply no way I can blend into the Seattle area given Ben knows the area too well. I envisioned myself in the heart of the Big Apple with the other bohemians, including my mother, but Ben insisted I stay here. It was the way he coaxed me back here to the Peninsula and the Islands. We were high school sweethearts after all.  
On top of this, my plans fell by the wayside once Bonzo died and they disbanded as part of the aftermath; Journey also burst forth with their new range of anthems for the world, meaning the possibility there disappeared into smoke. Even though Ben and I both had our roots in the scene, I was too different to hang out with the hardcore punk crowd, which had then moved onto Black Flag, whereas I paid more attention to the smoothed out likes of Blondie, The Cure, and David Byrne. But I always believed in finding the opportunity to hang out with either Joey Ramone, Patti Smith, or Chrissy Hynde after dancing to Robert Plant and Steve Perry's crooning, and then go on to be on the silver screen, to be the Goth punk Audrey Hepburn. I even considered trying out to be a dancer for INXS, but I had to pull out once I found out I was pregnant with Liliana.  
It feels so long ago, looking back at my nineteen year old self, but it was only over the course of the past few years. I should be grateful given I have a daughter now and we live in this nice house together on this lovely piece of land, but something is missing here. I noticed this feeling once I quit dancing so much to clean the house and care for her. In fact, I noticed I quit listening to punk and hard rock so much, aside from the fact I had no time do anything. I lost that spark, that sense of belonging to a scene I had once loved.  
Ben seemed to have lost a glimmer of passion at some point on his part himself because I can't recall the last time he picked up his guitar and played a Devo song for me. It could have been the alcohol, or the fact neither of us were ready for raising a new human being.   
Here it is, three going on four years after we brought her into this world, and he has fallen down the rabbit hole. His guitar has gathered more dust than on the blades of our ceiling fan. There's no way I can help him or pull him out of it given he always resists me. Whenever he drinks too much, he raises his voice and thrashes as if he’s a two year old throwing a tantrum. I always do my best to protect Lily, keeping her in her room but I've spent too many nights crying myself to sleep on the couch and wishing I could come live with my mother in New York City, or my father up in Everett. The one time he ever hit me was three months ago, and I had thrown away his glass bottle of vodka because I worried about Lily finding it. He smacked me hard across the face with his open hand and even kicked me right in the stomach.  
Every single time he yells about the most trivial of things, he takes everything out on me, even when I had nothing to do with it. One time he stormed into the bedroom in the middle of a conversation with himself and shouted “get your finger out of my face!” when I sat there on the bed in stunned silence. I later brought the issue up with him, and he always swore to me he had anxiety. Anxiety of not knowing where to go from here and keeping our heads above water, but he only fell off the wagon again after not even a month of sobriety. He tried to quit cold turkey back in January, but every time something goes wrong, either at work or with Lily acting up with a new fever, the bottle tempts him time and time again. My boss cutting hours from my shift last month was the straw that finally broke the camel's back for him.  
Last month this happened.  
And now his beautiful baby blues have been engulfed by a ghoulish yellow and his once toned stomach is now rotund, swollen, and heavy. I can't hold him like I used to, and it's felt like a hundred years since we last made love, and he only pushes me away even when I attempt to bring him in the mood. I also wish he wouldn't smoke, either, but he’s done it since high school and he always vowed to quit. Even after we got married, he still itched for one. And there's nothing I can do other than take care of my daughter and pay the bills with the checks I get from working at the coffee house across the Sound.  
What am I going to tell his parents once he's laying in his hospital bed dying in the most agonizing way possible? I have asked myself this a few times, ever since I noticed the yellow in his skin and despite my warning that he’s rotting away, he left the house for a smoke and a shot of vodka. But all I can do at the moment is hold Lily close to me and ask her if she wants some ginger ale before I make myself a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Today is a work day.

************

Ben hasn't woken up once I drive Lily to preschool and head off to the harbor to catch the next ferry over to the mainland. I have my purse slung over my shoulder and my flats on my feet. I'll put my work blouse on while I'm in one of those tiny bathrooms on board; I have it over my forearm as I'm walking from the parking lot the pier.  
Within a few moments, the ferry arrives, and I board and pay the fee into the box on the rail. There's a few benches left vacant in the main area but I linger there at the edge of the floor while a few more people board. Once the ramp lifts and the door closes off, I brace myself for the ferry's lunging forward against the cold waters of the Puget Sound.  
I take the corridor on the starboard side to the ladies' room. Luckily, there's no one in there, but as I'm turning the lock on the door, I'm finding there's no guard on the door frame, meaning the door doesn't close all the way. I fetch up a sigh as I switch on the light next to the door. I set my purse on the edge of the sink basin and peel off my pajama top. I lay it over my purse when I realize I had forgotten my bra at home. Oh well. I won’t move as much.   
I lift up the blouse and slip my left arm into the sleeve first. Then my right.  
“Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!”  
I make the mistake of whirling around to see who's behind me: a slender, slightly built man with long wavy molasses colored hair down to the middle of his back and big dark eyes. He’s wearing a red sleeveless shirt and a pair of gaudy black and yellow board shorts; I spot the white piece of gun nestled in the side of his mouth next to his big horse-like teeth. I yelp out as I clasp over my chest to protect myself.  
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—” He covers his face before he ducks past the door and throws it closed. Even though I know it was a mishap, he saw me. He hung there long enough for me to see him. But all I can do is let my heartbeat calm down to where I can clasp onto the buttons of my blouse and finish what I started. Breathing hard and my hands still shaking, I pick up my shirt, and my purse, and step out of the bathroom, and return to the seating area.  
He's seated at the far side of the main floor with the hair on the side of his head blanketing his face. I take the seat closest to me there on the starboard side of the ferry.  
The whole ride I keep my eye on him. It was an accident and maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him, but he still should've ducked out once he saw me.  
Within time, we reach the mainland, and I'm one of the first people to head onto the pier. I don't look over my shoulder as I descend down the ramp onto solid ground, but I know he's right behind me.  
The cafe I work at is about two blocks away from the harbor, across a frontage road followed by a crosswalk. Since I'm early to my shift, I take my time, relishing the fact that I’m out of the house and away from the Island. In fact, prior to the crosswalk, I stop at the planter full of lush bushes to take out my name tag and pin it to the lapel of my shirt before continuing onward. I reach the corner, where I'm met with another guy standing waiting at the crosswalk.   
He's a touch taller than me and thin, gaunt in fact. His long curly jet black hair trickles down past his shoulders and over his back: atop his head is an extra poofy pile of hair like a crown. His light brown skin glows in the morning sun, and his eyes are protected by round mirrored sunglasses. He nods at me with a quaint smile as I come closer to the streetlight.  
“I already pushed it,” he tells me once I reach out for the button. The sound of his voice takes me aback. Not from around here. He’s obviously American, but not this part of the country. I nod at him, and that’s when the light turns green.  
He lunges away from me before I can step off of the curb. His hair seems to drift back from his head as he pulls ahead of me. He reaches the cafe before me, and, once he spots me walking up behind me, holds the door once I turn up behind him.  
“Thank you,” I tell him; he has a crooked little smile with a hole in his teeth and a cute dimple in his chin, much like Ben's dimple, and full little cheekbones.  
“Sure thing—” He leans in closer to my name tag. “—Virginia.”  
I stride inside of the cafe and he follows me inside right behind me. I duck behind the counter to clock in for the day as he takes a seat at the table near the front window and removes his sunglasses. Even from across the room, I can make out his big soft brown eyes underneath the kinky curly bangs pressed to his forehead.  
The guy who walked in on me strides in right then. He swallows at the sight of me, but he continues onto that table before the window and takes a seat across from him. I glance down at the wedding band on my left ring finger. I think about Ben laying there in bed.  
I took a vow. But after everything as of late, this thing is nothing more than a mere piece of jewelry. Once I sign my name on the clipboard on the counter top, I hold onto either side of the ring and take it off my finger. I stick it right into my jeans pocket.


	2. the waitress, the peeping tom, and the singer

June, 1986. West Seattle, Washington.  
“Okay, gentlemen, what can I get you on this morning?”  
I have my pen ready over my notepad. It's a strange sensation not having my wedding band on anymore but I know it's worth it. The one on the left is recoiling at the very sight of me with the enlarging his eyes and the nibbling of his lips. I was going to be a dancer so it only makes sense that a boy like him would feel apprehensive towards me, and I have no idea if he saw my ring or not. But the one on the right has never changed his expression for a second, even when he nudged his bangs back with his slender fingers. His eyes seem to swallow me whole with their softness: as brown as the earth.  
“Cup of coffee and French toast please,” the one on the right tells me.  
“Me, too,” the one on the left stammers out: I catch the strain of an uptown New York accent to his voice. “I mean—you know, the same as him.”  
“It's okay, it's okay, I've got it,” I assure him, scribbling down “plus 2” next to “cup of coffee” and “French toast.” I eye the both of them while still keeping the tip of my pen stuck to the top of the pad. The one on the left is stick nibbling on his lip while the one on the right eyes my left hand holding my notepad.  
“I'll get you boys your food,” I assure them, turning away from there. I head on back behind the counter in order to ring it up. The coffee maker already has a full pot awaiting them. I return to the front of the counter only to be met by the one on the left.  
“Hey, I'm—really sorry about what happened on the ferry earlier,” he sputters. “The door swung open and I thought no one was in there.”  
“Hey, you know what?” I set a hand on his shoulder. “It's alright. Accidents happen, it's not your fault. I swear. It's okay.”  
He lets out a little sigh and bows his head.  
“What I don't understand is why'd you hesitate,” I confess to him.  
“Didn't know what to do,” he replies with a shrug and a raise of his head.  
“That makes sense, too. Anyways, head on back to your spot—I've got some coffee for you guys.”  
“Okay—” He gives me a shy little smile and a chuckle before wheeling around back to the table. I fetch them a pair of clean white bone china mugs and pour them up with the fresh black coffee. I return to their table with the coffee in either hand and some pods of creamer in the pockets of my apron. I set down the mugs in front of each one of them before giving them the creamer.  
“I'm Frank, by the way,” says the one on the left. “Or as what everyone calls me Frankie.”  
“And I'm Joey,” says the one on the right.  
“Virginia, or as what everyone calls me Ginny. You guys aren't from around here, are you?”  
“New York City,” Joey tells me, “well, he is, anyways. I'm from upstate New York.”  
“We're over here in Seattle touring,” Frankie adds.  
“Touring—you guys in a band?”  
“Bass player.”  
“Lead singer,” Joey adds. I chew on my bottom lip. This is all happening so fast. To think the whole grand scheme of things was utterly hopeless and bleak the past few months: now I'm actually serving two members of a band. There's so much I want to tell them right now that I don't even know where to begin.  
“What're you doing for lunch?” Joey asks me in a soft voice.  
“For lunch? Probably nothin'.” I squint at him. “Why?”  
And he purses his lips and turns his head away from me. Frankie starts laughing at him.  
“Are you asking me out?” I tease him, pressing my hands to my hips.  
“No,” he answers in a small voice, “not really—it's just—” He shrugs as he returns his gaze to me with a little twinkle in his brown eyes. “—you look like—you have a lot to tell us and it's kinda hard to when you're at work, y'know?”  
It's almost as if a dead weight has lifted off from my shoulders at the sound of that. Or rather it's akin to taking in a deep inhale of the cool moist breeze from the Puget Sound.  
“That is so sweet and considerate,” I declare to him. “I don't take lunch until noon, but I am on break in a couple of hours if you fellas wanna stick around after you have your breakfast.”  
“It's a deal,” Joey assures me with that shy crooked smile emerging once again.  
“Done deal, our lady,” Frankie adds with a wink. They reach for their mugs, thus giving me my cue to step away and tend to other patrons. I'm eager to see where this goes from here.


	3. the break, the cups, and the invitation

“So tell us about yourself,” Joey starts.  
I had clocked out for my fifteen minute break at about ten thirty, and with the timing of atomic clock precision as Frankie and Joey finished their French toast and their second cups of coffee. The latter confessed to me that neither of them had enough money and so, in order to avert the risk of the potential dine and dash which neither of them were willing to take, I opened a tab for them with the small sliver of hope that my boss wouldn't see it at some point. The three of us strode outside to around the corner so as to catch some of the bright, early summer Pacific Northwest sunshine.  
There's a low pale brick wall lining the outside of a planter, and I had led them over to it for each of us to take a seat. Frankie nestled close to me even though it’s relatively warm outside at the moment; Joey on the other hand, is straddling the wall and keeping his right foot planted on the ground next to my own. He has his sunglasses folded and clamped onto the collar of his shirt, and thus I can see into his big brown eyes. I notice he’s wearing black Chuck Taylors, much of like the ones Ben used to wear when we entered the world of punk rock.  
“Well,” I answer him as a big truck lumbers past us. I hesitate for a second for it to roar on by so he can hear me. “I am a Seattle girl through and through. I live over on Bainbridge Island, across the Sound, if you wanna get specific—people from the islands don’t really like to be lumped in with the mainland.”  
“Outsiders much?” Frankie cracks.  
“Yeah, we pretty much are,” I reply with a laugh. “I was gonna be a dancer for either Led Zeppelin, Journey, or INXS not too long ago.”  
“Oh my God, really?” Joey seems genuinely surprised by that.  
“Yeah. I was gonna be the punk rock Audrey Hepburn on top of that, skirting around and rubbing shoulders with the punk and the Goth circles—given my black hair and whatnot—and just being a star.”  
“What happened?” asks Frankie.  
“Bonzo died, Journey got big, and—“ I stop myself. I had always told the story about my home life and how it all fell by the wayside after Ben and I got married, and we had Lily. I took off my ring: now is the chance for a different narrative. “—and INXS just decided to go forth as a regular band.”  
The nervousness begins to creep over me but I made this choice. I need to relax and let loose with these two sweethearts.  
“You know, Joey takes a ton of influence from Journey,” Frankie points out, and I flash him a look of surprise.  
“Really?”  
“Steve Perry is like the king to me,” he declares, raising his hands over his head so as to imitate a crown. He then sets his hands down on his knees. “Between him, Brad Delp, Rick Nielsen, and each of the Beatles—they all—“ He gives me a bashful shrug. “—y’know, knew what they were doing.”  
“When he auditioned to sing for us last year,” Frankie recalls, “the very first song I ever heard him sing was ‘Oh, Sherrie.’”  
“Should’a been go-one,” I chant it out, and Joey bows his head against my shoulder.  
“I’m in good company,” he declares in a muffled voice. I have no idea on the whereabouts of the time: it gives me an excuse to stand up as well.  
“Are you boys thirsty?” I offer them.  
“I’d ask for some wine,” Frankie begins again, “but I dunno if your little cafe has any of that sort of thing.”  
“Frankie ‘Mr. Italian’ Bello,” Joey quips.  
“Hey, you’re Italian, too, Belladonna,” Frankie retorts with a little shake to his head.  
“You’re both babes, though,” I blurt out.  
“Okay, this just got interesting,” Joey says in a loud voice towards the street, even though the street is louder than him.  
“Anyways, yeah, I’d like some water,” Frankie answers, showing me that sly grin. Joey lifts his head from my shoulder for a look into my face. One thing I notice about him in particular is the glimmer in his eyes courtesy of the sun: those soft irises staring back at like a pair of black diamonds.  
“I’ll take some agua, too,” he adds, showing me the dimple in his chin and the whole in his teeth.  
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”  
I climb off the wall and amble my way back to the cafe to fetch two cups of water. The butterflies are whirring up inside of my stomach. I am almost in disbelief that all of this is happening right now. I took off my ring and now I’m venturing into the very first glimmers of the otherwise broken dream. These two men are the gatekeepers to the path my teenage self had wanted to take.  
Several more patrons have entered the place and I have a feeling that my break will be over soon. Indeed, once I weave my way into the kitchen and find a pair of clean, bubbly glass cups from the dish drainer next to the sink, I spot the clock on the wall telling me I have seven minutes left. Without wasting another second, I pour up the glasses with the chilled water from the pitcher on the counter top and proceed to walk at a brisk pace back to the wall. The sun is shining upon their dark hair such that it looks as though they have pieces of glitter embedded within the roots.   
I hand each of the cups and wipe the condensation on my hands on my jeans. Frankie raises the glass to me while Joey continues to give me that crooked little smile.  
“So you stayed here in Sea-Town, though,” Frankie picks up again, tipping the glass to his lips.  
“Yeah, although I have considered moving to New York City to be closer to my mom, though.”  
“Do it,” Joey commands me, bringing his glass to his mouth.  
“Yeah, what he said. Come to New York.”  
“I guess there’s a good-sized bohemian commune there,” I continue. “My mom says it’s right inside my wheelhouse.”  
“So what’re you waiting for, dream queen?” Joey asks me, setting his glass down right between his thighs.  
“Money. It’s so tight for me right now that it’s difficult to do certain things. Moving across country is one of them.”  
“Oh, man, we hear you on that,” Frankie assures me. “We’re barely making money ourselves.”  
“Yeah, for this tour, our record label put us on a tight budget,” Joey explains, “‘cause there’s literally no money coming for us.”  
“You mean you fellas aren’t getting paid to play here?” I feel my heart sink at that very notion, and he shakes his head with a grave expression upon his handsome face.  
“Well, what the hell. I should come see you guys. Where are you playing at? I have to go to back to work in a few minutes so I’ll write it down real quick.”  
“Benaroya Hall, I think it’s called?” Joey recalls. “It’s like a few blocks from here. Doors open at seven.”  
“But hang on, there might not be tickets, though,” Frankie points out. “And if there are, you know how scalpers are.”  
“Oh, right?” I sympathize with him. Joey then snaps his fingers.  
“Come backstage with us,” he tells me.  
“Backstage?” I echo him.  
“Hey, yeah! Our drummer Charlie and I can meet up with you at the back door.”  
“I don’t know, though,” I admit to them folding one arm over my chest and cradling the side of my face with my other hand. “I don’t get off work until two, and then I’ve gotta hustle back home to change my clothes and then I gotta get back on the ferry to get here—“  
“You can do it, though,” says Frankie with vein of disappointment to his voice, “can’t you?”  
“Well, yeah, it’s just—“  
“Come backstage with us,” Joey insists, touching the back of my hand: his skin is as smooth as silk, a sensation which coupled with his touch, lighter than a feather, puts me at a great deal of ease. “Please?”  
“We’ll take good care of you,” Frankie adds. “I mean, we don’t have much but we will take care of you. Rock and metal is like a family—we should look out for one another, you know?”  
After watching my marriage to the man whom I believed was the love of my life, it is indeed quite the relief to hear that sentiment. And the more I give it some thought, the more I find it to be true, in particular here in Seattle. We’re all family because we’re all in this together.  
“Okay,” I finally tell them. “I’ll join you boys.”  
“Oh, hell yeah!” Frankie cheers, extending a hand for me. I take his and he yanks me in closer to him: he’s strong and sinewy and carries that strong whiff of cologne upon his neck. I then turn to Joey who puts his arms around me, still showing me that cute smile. The roots of his hair on the side of his head smells like soap and allspice. He, on the other hand, feels incredibly soft despite having such a slim build.  
“Seven o’clock, you said?” I repeat once I pull away from him.  
“Seven o’clock,” he answers, reaching for his sunglasses. “We’ll be waiting for ya.” He flashes me a wink before putting them on over his face.  
“Don’t be late now,” Frankie advises me, taking one final swig from his glass before handing it over to me. Joey takes a large drink from his and gives his empty glass to me. I scurry past them, back to the cafe to clock back in for the next stint of my shift before I’m written up. The rest of the day seems to float by, and each passing minute leaves me feeling more wary than the last.  
The fun part is over. Now it’s time for the hard part: heading back home and making sure Ben doesn’t ask me any questions.


	4. the truth, the lies, and the venue

It’s about three o’clock in the afternoon by the time I return to the Island in order to pick up Lily from daycare, but when I arrive there, I find she had already left the place and returned home. I am of the belief that Ben picked her up sometime while I was over on the mainland, and I have this thought firmly planted in my mind as I drive back to our house.  
As much as I want to save the little scrounging of my clipped paycheck and move clear across the country to New York to live the bohemian life I had always dreamed of, sometimes it’s the small whiff of crisp, moist breeze emerging from the Puget Sound, or the feel of said breeze coupled with the sunshine that reminds me of my roots here in the Northwest. The sight of the shadows cast down on the pavement from the lush trees lining the road, the sight of the skyline right across the way... it’s all precious to me. It’s the place I have called home forever.  
But then there’s the fact of my home life. The tires carrying me back to the house I should be able to call home are fading away into a wall of unwanted noise around me. It’s moments like this, making the drive home, where I wish it was the Seventies again. The dark, punk laden Seventies where everyone here in Sea-Town was either going to see Zeppelin or the Cure and I was learning how to swing my hips about, almost akin to a belly dancer.  
There is in fact one thing that I forgot to ask Frank while we were sitting on the wall there outside of the cafe. Why was he even over here on Bainbridge Island, especially when the venue is in the heart of Seattle? I’ll have to bring it up to him when I see him in a while.  
And then there’s Joey. The quiet, mysterious aura that surrounds him, his long hair all around his head, and his brown eyes resembling to deep pools in the morning sun. Not to mention that humble little smile of his. But there’s something dark and intense about him, though. It could be a leftover feeling on part, something left over from my skirting around the Goth scene for as long as I have, but I do in fact feel it. Joey has an edge to him: somewhere underneath that black hair and that hole in his teeth is a dark shadow, and I’m curious about it, like how I’ve always been curious about the world of vampires. Frankie is pretty, beautiful even: Joey would perhaps be considered grotesque with his dark skin, odd features, and the fact he’s from upstate New York rather than the city. He’s not grotesque like a Halloween mask, but he is without a doubt an outlier. Frank is cute, but there’s something endearing about Joey.  
Before the final bend in the road, I catch glimpse of the final view of the Sound, the waters glittering like diamonds, and I think of Joey and his brown eyes glittering in the sun yet again. I need to figure him out when I see him again.  
But when I do in fact pull up to the curb outside of the house, I notice something is a little bit off about the place. Lily isn’t outside playing in the front yard and there’s still a newspaper laying in the driveway. I switch off the car and climb out with my purse in hand.  
I head up to the front step with the key in hand, only to find the door is unlocked. I push it open only to be met with the foul and unmistakable odor of marijuana wafting from down the hall. I put a hand up to my nose because it makes my eyes water. The sound of music in the next room catches my ear as I make my way down the hall to the bedroom. The room is empty.  
This in fact might prove to be rather easy as I set down my purse on the edge of the bed and unbutton my shirt. I have to laugh at the incident with Frankie on the ferry now. The poor guy didn’t know what to do and that’s all there was to it.  
I amble to the closet for one of my favorite bras, the black one with the filmy, delicate black lace around the edges of the cups. I put it on and then reach for my black silk blouse with the low neckline resting near the back of the closet: I was going to wear this when I tried out to dance for INXS. I haven’t worn this top in so long it seems, given it used to hang off my body back then: now the silk hugs my waist and around my hips, and I can barely close the top buttons. Maybe that’s why Frankie hung there a bit longer when he saw me, and why Joey seemed so intent on talking to me: I’m a skinny girl with a little more of a curvature to my body now, especially down by my hips. They’re bad boys, the both of them.  
Ben says something from down the hall, but that’s not my focus right now. I leave the top two buttons unfastened before I turn and reach for my hairbrush.  
Ben says something again and that’s when he staggers into the room, completely drunk again, and collapses face first onto our bed. His falling there pushes my purse right off the bed and onto the floor: my pajama top spills out onto the carpet. He lets out a groan, muffled by the blankets beneath him.  
“Ben,” I begin in a gentle tone, running the bristles through my black hair, “Ben—may I ask who picked up Lily from daycare?”  
He moans and groans again, and then buried his face in the blankets.  
“Ben,” I repeat, this time with a touch more vehemence to my voice. I hold the hairbrush close to my chest for a moment so as to pay more attention to him. “Ben, where’s Lily?”  
He murmurs something that I don’t understand in the least.  
“Ben, where’s Lily?”  
He rolls over part of the way so his mouth is pointed out from the blankets.  
“I don’t know,” he gargles out.  
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I demand from him, never raising my voice.  
“I don’t know,” he repeats. I set the hairbrush down on top of the dresser and put on those old bracelets, one with beads as round and pearlescent as the moon, another with beads of bone, another with silver and black sparkles, and another with white and gray roses made of jade and bloodstone.  
“Do you know what time it is?”  
He groans again, his lips bright red and dry and parched looking. The hair on his face tells me everything I need to know.  
“You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?”  
He groans yet again. I press my hands to my hips.  
“Ben, answer me. Have you been drinking again?”  
He yanks himself up right then, his formerly handsome face twisted in a drunken rage.  
“Get out of this house,” he growls at me. I lunge for my purse there on the floor and he almost body slams me onto the floor.  
“Get out of my house!” he shouts from behind me. He gropes at my legs but I manage to scramble away from him. He’s laying hunched over on the floor, hammered and bloated. I have to pity him so much right now.  
I climb onto my feet and dodge past him, clutching onto my purse. I almost trip from his gripping onto my pant leg again, but I catch myself and dash out of there. I return outside, fumbling the keys but I catch them before I can drop them onto the grass. I collapse into the front seat and set my purse in the seat next to me. I fire up the car once again and speed back to the harbor.  
I’m returning to the mainland early, much to my surprise. But I know the ferries run on a tight schedule. Indeed, I see the ferry lumbering across the rich blue waters of the Sound towards the Island once I’m rounding that first bend. I step on it in order to reach the harbor in time: I don’t want to have to wait for the next one, and I sure don’t want to take the long way, down the Peninsula, and into Bremerton and Tacoma, and double back to the city. The ferry parks at the pier right as I reach the harbor.  
I bound into the parking lot and find a spot just in time. I scoop up my purse and make a run for it to the pier right as the last person is getting off. I run up the ramp with a mere handful of seconds to spare. I pay the fare and stand near the back side of the starboard side.  
We reach the mainland within time, but a part of me wishes I have a spare car on this side of the trip, because I don’t really want to ride the bus, but then again I don’t have much choice. I walk at a brisk pace to the bus stop right up the block to catch the next one over to Benaroya Hall, the luxurious concert hall which I feel is more appropriate for an act like Perry Cuomo or Tony Bennett rather than a heavy metal band that I only just heard of.  
I step off to the sidewalk and make my way across the street towards the front entrance, where a crowd of people dressed in black and leather are congregated at will call in anticipation. Takes me back to those little punk shows Ben and I used to go to before we were married.  
But I continue on to the side of the hall, where all the down near the rear, I recognize Frankie and another long haired boy next to him seated on the concrete step. I keep walking down the alley towards them and then Frankie’s voice comes within earshot.  
“Oh, there she is,” he says, “what, you took a bus?”  
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing else over here,” I point out, running my fingers through my hair.  
“Makes sense—this is our drummer and my uncle Charlie.” He gestures to the boy next to him with long nappy hair and a deep cleft in his chin. He shows me a friendly smile, such that the corners of his black eyes crinkle up to resemble a pair of black beetles.  
“You’re his uncle?”  
“Go figure, right?” His New York accent is thicker than Frankie’s. “But yeah, his mom is my older sister.”  
“We’re more like brothers, anyway,” Frankie adds with a shrug. “Anyways, come on in to meet Scott and Danny.”  
“And see Joey again?” I feel my heart flutter upon saying his name.  
“And see Joey again, yeah,” Charlie teases me as he stands to his feet. They lead me into their dressing room, a small room with a lumpy couch made of what I think is vinyl and a little wooden table with some food on it. Joey enters the room from the doorway in front of us, smelling faintly of vinegar. He gasps when he recognizes me, and then it hits me.  
He’s like a dark prince with his long, disheveled jet black curls cascading around either side of his face, and his slim body wrapped in fitted black leather. His black jeans are quite snug on his hips and thighs, making him look a little fuller there. A dark skinned knight hailing from the backwoods of New York who only flies by the darkness of the new moon. A dark skinned Lestat.  
“Hi, Joey,” I greet him with a light voice.  
“Glad you could make it, Miss Ginny,” he replies to me also in a soft tone, and with an accompanying small but comforting smile on his handsome face. “Welcome to our party.”


	5. the eyebrows, the stickers, and the nostalgia

Joey invites me to have a seat on the sofa next to him: even with his full hips and thighs, he has a delicate air to him. I nestle closer to him there on the cushions, and he shows me a bewildered look.  
“Are you cold?” he asks me, shuffling his feet on the carpet.  
“No. Just wanna come on closer to you. We met on the street after all.”  
“True. But I have to confess that if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were only coming closer to me because I’m the singer.”  
“Oh I see, the whole thing about the singer getting all the action.”  
“Exactly.”  
“But that’s not my intention, though. I just wanna be right next to you. You were also sweet to me, too.”  
He shows me another crooked little smile when another boy enters the room from the doorway to Joey’s left.  
“Our main man and founder,” Charlie introduces me from the table across the room, “Scott Ian.” He lunges towards me with a hand for me. Scott is a tiny young man, a few inches shorter than me, and with these thick eyebrows which remind me of full grown caterpillars. All around his head is a complete mane of rich, lush curly black hair. The very sight of his Agnostic Front shirt over his baggy black shorts and Doc Martens makes me yearn for my high school days.  
“The infamous Ginny,” he greets me with a nasally Queens accent and a crooked grin.  
“Infamous?”  
He raises his eyebrows and just looks funny doing it.  
“Your ears must’a been burnin’,” he continues, “Joey and Frankie have been talking about you all morning. How you almost did Zeppelin and Hutchence.”  
I sink back down onto the couch next to Joey as he shrugs his shoulders at me.  
“Well, this whole thing just got interesting,” I declare.  
“Oh, so now it just got interesting?” Frankie teases me, and the four of us burst out laughing. Another boy stumbles into the room with a handful of comic books: he’s got a big puffy hairdo with long brown streaks down his back, brilliant blue eyes, and lovely opaque skin. He’s even shorter, shorter than Scott in fact, and is wearing a shirt that would probably fit Joey or Frankie better.  
“Guys!” he squeals in probably the thickest New York accent out of all of them. “I just found all these comics in the back—and they’re all still in mint condition!”  
“Holy shit!” Scott and Charlie yelp out in unison; the two of them and Frankie congregate around him, and then he turns to me. His facial expression softens at the sight of me.  
“Oh. Hello.”  
“Danny, this is that girl Joe and I were talking about earlier today,” Frankie says as he and Charlie set the books down on the table next to the water pitcher, “little Ginny.”  
“The amazing Danny Spitz,” Joey adds as he takes my hand with the gentlest grip.  
“Nah, she’s the amazing one, Joe,” Dan points out.  
“Come on, you play guitar better than I can.”  
“Hey, Dan!” Charlie sounds so giddy. “Check it out! Ninja turtles!”  
Danny gasps and lunges back towards him like a little boy on Christmas. I turn to Joey, who seems more intent on staying on the couch.  
“Aren’t you gonna join ‘em?” I ask him.  
“I’ll wait till they have a moment alone there,” he explains, giving his black hair a gentle toss back from his face. “Which—ah, here we go.”  
He ambles over to the table for a look for himself with his curls obscuring part of his face. He stands there for about a minute with his fingers upon the remainder of the stack. And then he picks up something and shows it to me, a small white sheet of paper under a glossy sheen and decorated in little black splotches.  
“Are those bats?” I ask him, and I can’t resist the smile crossing my face.  
“Partially. It’s bats and pussy cats and pumpkins.”  
“Yeah, that was a little thing of Halloween stickers I found,” Danny explains, opening a Judge Dredd comic; I remember when Ben and his old friends used to geek out over Judge Dredd in high school.  
“Every day is Halloween if you ask me,” I confess to them. Joey sidles back to me with the stickers; before sitting back down, he hands them to me.  
“Merry Christmas,” he tells me, and I give him a little giggle.  
“Thank you—“  
We hang out there backstage for another hour or so, reading comics and having things to eat. All the while, I’m sitting next to Joey, and trying to absorb in his softness. He’s so slim and lovely, with his curly black tendrils careening down over his shoulders and onto his chest. At one point, Scott takes a seat next to the right of me there on the couch with a cracker and some Swiss cheese and a slice of prosciutto on top. He looks at me like a prince even with his baggy shorts and knobby knees.  
“Yes?” I quip to him as part of my greeting.  
“Hors d’oeuvre?” he offers me.  
“Oh, yes, thank you.”  
I take the cracker when a voice to my right calls out.  
“Guys!” We all turn our heads to find the portly gentleman in a ball cap poking his head into the room.  
“Doors open in five.”  
“Okay, thanks, Jon,” Scott replies; he directs his attention back to me. “That’s our manager Jon. Jonny Z as we all like to call him. We wouldn’t be here without him. Joey owes his slot as singer to our producer.”  
I turn my head to face him.  
“He flagged me down in upstate New York and brought me in to be with these guys,” Joey explains as he’s leaning forward. “If I remember correctly, Scott was wearing literally the same thing he’s wearing right now when we first met.”  
“Yeah, I was! And he had on like—really tight jeans, an animal print top—“  
“It was my aunt’s blouse, by the way,” he interjects in a hushed voice.  
“It was like a belly shirt,” Frankie adds.  
“Yeah, it was cropped a little too short, and he also had on these black leather S&M type boots.”  
I raise my eyebrows at Joey.  
“Just ‘cause they got a chain on the side don’t mean I had a whip in my back pocket,” he jeers, and Charlie spits out his drink, and the six of us burst out laughing. Danny kicks back another cup full of ice water and runs his fingers through his hair.  
“I’m gonna see if my guitars are in tune,” he announces to us.  
“Yeah, I should get in the groove, too,” Joey pipes up. Frankie whispers something to Charlie which makes him scoff.  
“Oh come on,” Frankie insists.  
“No friggin’ way!”  
“Do it.”  
“No, Frank. Just, no!”  
“Chicken.”  
“No!”  
“Boys! Boys!” I call out, and the two of them clam up at the sight of me, their eyes wide like a pair of deer in headlights. Suddenly I feel like a mom, leaning forward next right to Joey.  
“There will be none of that here,” I tell them, wagging my finger at the both of them. “No way. Frankie, you can forget it, and Charlie, be nice to your nephew. I don’t wanna hear it.”  
“But—“ Frankie starts and I put up my hand to stop him.  
“No. Now, put the books down and go out there and play.”  
They both glance at one another before Charlie fetches up a sigh.  
“Okay. Where are my sticks...” He strides over to the doorway Danny had gone through and disappears into the next room. Frankie takes another swig of water before following him, thus leaving me, Joey, and Scott alone there on the couch.  
“That was excellent,” Joey confesses to me, clearing his throat.  
“Yeah,” Scott adds. “Satisfying, actually. Come on, Joey, let’s get this party started.”  
“What should I do?” I ask him, tucking the Halloween stickers into my purse.  
“Come with us.” Scott gestures me to follow him and Joey into this next room, which I find is a corridor leading us to the cozy, warm lit backstage area. We’re separated from the crowd by a series of soft-looking black velvet curtains. Joey’s making odd noises that sound like an angry bird while Frankie and Danny are conversing about something over their guitars.  
“You guys are on in two!” Jonny Z hollers from the other side of the stage.  
“Alright!” Scott then turns to me, his eyes gleaming underneath his thick eyebrows. “You ready to rock n’ roll with us?”  
“I was born ready,” I confess to him. Joey then steps forward to the side of the tapestry with his lanky arms hanging down in a loose fashion and his chest poked out. He bows his head, and I watch him take in a deep sigh through his nose. Then he lifts his head and pushes the curtain aside.  
He steps out first, followed by Frankie and Danny, and then Charlie, and finally Scott. I stop right where he had opened the curtains to find myself a mere few feet away from the stage and the good sized rambunctious crowd to my left. Joey snatches up a microphone from the top of his rack to my right.  
All the times I went to punk shows flooding back to me. I want this. I want this again. I want this feeling to never leave me for the rest of my life. I need this. I needed this so much!  
They’re loud. They’re raw and raunchy like the Seattle punks. But they’ve got a hard edge to them, one that chops and grinds like a buzz saw, one that reminds me of Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. Frankie bangs his head. Scott stomps around with those big Doc Martens: he has the word “NOT!” imprinted on the neck of his Flying V.  
And then Joey opens his mouth to sing.  
He’s like an opera singer. He’s quick, he’s light, he’s strong, and he’s... soulful. There’s a vein of melancholy to his voice. And his vibrato is absolutely gorgeous. And then he shrieks only to return to his beautiful singing again. Such a soft-spoken boy to have such a powerhouse of a voice that it fills up the whole room. My intuition was right: he does have a darkness to him.  
And I must feel it and embrace it for myself.


	6. the thrill, the chill, and the hill

“Wow,” I declare. “Just—WOW!”  
“Stunned?” Joey asks me, nonplussed. It’s about five minutes right after the show given they had an encore following their main set. My ears are ringing and whirring, and yet Joey’s voice had managed to coax the heaven’s straight out from the roof that it doesn’t in fact bother me. His disheveled black ringlets are a bit shiny up top with sweat but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looks energized, if a bit out of breath.  
“That was INCREDIBLE!” I exclaim as we begin to walk back to the dressing room. “I have never heard a voice like yours before!”  
“And now you know why he’s with us!” Scott joins in from behind him, peeling off his shirt and giving his hair a toss back.  
“You guys were working hard, too, my goodness! I’ve seen bands play rowdy sets like that and they don’t even break a sweat.”  
“No pain, no game, that’s what I say,” Scott replies, tossing his shirt over his shoulder.  
“But that’s what I’m talking about there,” Joey tells me in a broken voice, “sweat, and just a whole lotta fun. I need a drink!”  
“You and me both.”  
We step back into the dressing room where Scott pours himself a big glass of ice water. I return to the couch to relax for a minute given I had standing for almost a full hour. I set down my purse next to me, right where Scott himself was sitting earlier before the show. He takes a sip before pouring some of it right onto his head.  
“Ahhh, yeah, that’s some good shit right there.”  
Joey meanwhile picks out a big bottle of water and pops it open for himself. He plops down next to me as kicks back two big gulps. Frankie then walks in clapping his hands together.  
“Excellent crowd!” he declares. “Just excellent!”  
“Thanks for being from Seattle,” Scott tells me with a grin and a brushing of some of the water off of his head.  
“Yeah, Seattle rocks!” Frankie declares, reaching over to me for a high-five. Joey follows suit as Charlie bows into the room with his hair in a taut ponytail behind his head.  
“Phew,” he groans out.  
“Our little drummer boy,” I announce and Frankie bursts out laughing. Joey takes another swig of water as Danny ducks into the room with his hair floating behind him and his eyes as bright as day.  
“God, the thrill of it all was just—” I can hardly speak.  
“Insane, right?” Joey fills in for me.  
“I don’t even know where to begin.”  
Charlie says something to Frankie and then they start talking about something. Danny pours himself a drink as Scott leaves the room for the door on the right. Joey then turns to me.  
“Just you and me now,” I tell him.  
“Just you and me now.” He takes another drink before pushing his bangs back from his forehead.  
“So tell me more about yourself,” he says to me in a quiet voice, “and really just me this time ‘cause—y’know, I’ve seen you get close to me. When’s your birthday?”  
“The Fourth of July, so coming up here. I’m gonna be twenty-three.”  
“Is that all?”  
“I’m just a little older than you—I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five in October.”  
“When in October?”  
“The thirteenth. Not quite Friday, though. I guess Thursday the thirteenth doesn’t have the same ring to it.” He shrugs and I can’t help but giggle at him.  
“How are your parents? You said your mom is in the City.”  
“Yup, she’s in New York City. My dad and my grandparents are up in a little town called Everett, just to the north of Seattle.”  
“You and your dad close at all?”  
“Kinda. He works a lot so I can’t really talk to him much. I’ve always been close to my mom, though.”  
“Hence a cross country move.” He takes another big swig from his bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  
“Exactly! Now how ‘bout you, Mr. Singer with the high soaring voice? What’s your story?”  
“Well—I’m a small town boy. I was born, raised, and continue to live in this little town called Oswego, it’s about an hour north of Syracuse. It’s right on Lake Ontario.”  
“Wow. So it must be pretty cold there.”  
“In the wintertime, definitely. This time of year, not so much. I’m usually running around in either my undies or my shorts this time of year.”  
“What about running around in your undies?” Frankie cackles, and Charlie takes a spit take from laughter.  
“I run around in my undies when it’s just too damn hot!” Joey exclaims.  
“Only when it’s too damn hot not when it’s too damn cold?” Charlie joins in.  
“I ain’t sayin’.”  
“Right.” Frankie shows him a mischievous smirk. “You tell it to us but not to her.”  
“I am telling it to her.”  
“Oh.” Charlie laughs out loud again and they return to each other. Joey then returns to me.  
“Anyways—where was I?”  
“You live out by the Syracuse area,” I recall, and he nods his head in affirmation.  
“It’s about an hour south of me, but close enough. I’m Iroquois Indian on my mom’s side.”  
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows at that.  
“Yeah. Explains my big brown eyes and why I tan easily. The only problem with being that is—“  
“Bullies?”  
“Pretty much, yeah.” He shrugs and drops his gaze to the floor. “Although the other side of my heritage is Italian.”  
“Your last name’s Belladonna, right?” I recall.  
“That’s actually a feminization of my real name, Bellardini. Which—oddly enough, doesn’t have the same ring as Belladonna, so it all works out in the end.” He shows me the little gap in his teeth as he smiles at me.  
“Is there a story behind this?” I gesture to my own teeth.  
“What, the hole in my teeth?”  
“Yeah.”  
“If I wasn’t going to be a musician, the other alternative was to be a hockey player. I played so much with my friends in the front yard when I was in school. Kinda what happened there.”  
“Oh, I see.”  
“Yeah, and my parents couldn’t really afford to get it fixed, either. Sometimes I feel so ugly with it, you know?”  
“I like it, actually,” I remark. “It’s distinctive.”  
“You think so?”  
“Joey, being a Goth has allowed me to see the beauty in what’s known as the grotesque. The supposedly ugly. The dark side of life. It’s because of that I don’t think you’re ugly if that’s what you’re getting at here.”  
“Oh.” He has a touched expression on his face. “That—That makes me feel a lot better about myself. Thank you.” He takes another drink of water.  
“So what made you change over to music?”  
“I just like singing. I always have liked it more than hockey. I got my start singing to the Beatles and then I found the drums.”  
“You’re a drummer, really?”  
“Yeah, but don’t tell Charlie.” He lowers his voice to a whisper at those last few words and then speaks in a normal voice again. “I really would like to learn guitar and piano some day, though. It’s just—you know. Money, resources, and of course finding the time.”  
Scott returns to the room with his shirt back on and his hair pushed back from his face.  
“You guys wanna take a walk?” he offers us. “It’s a pretty nice night out right now.”  
“Sure,” I take it up, “and I can show you fellas around, too. We are nearby Pike Place Market, too, after all.”  
“Sweet. Hey, Danny, come on! We’re takin’ a little walk down the hill.”  
Danny emerges from the next room, and then Joey and I stand to our feet, and Frankie and Charlie follow us outside. It is in fact a lovely evening out here in downtown Seattle with the breeze blowing in from the Sound and the sky painted orange over the peninsula. Joey and Scott are on either side of me as we’re striding on down the gentle slope before us. Pike Place looms down below on First Street. We reach the first corner and continue on past the art museum; following the second corner, we behold the sight of the big red letters welcoming us to the marketplace.  
“See, I’d think you guys’d be a little more suited to play at a place like The Showbox up the street over here.” I point down the block to our right. “Or The Crocodile, which is a few blocks away, or the Paramount which is not too far from here, or even the Moore which was right back up the street here. I always found Benaroya to be a little on the classy side.”  
“Blame our promoter,” Scott tells me. “If either of us had our way, we’d be at either of those places. Eh, what’re you gonna do—“  
“Pike Brewing Company,” Frankie says aloud.  
“Cheap-o, good fish n’ chips, and not to mention, really good beer and wine," I explain to them. “Yes, please!” Charlie declares, and the six of us cross the street towards the buttoned down restaurant that I have so many memories of going to with my grandparents and my old friends from high school. Once we’re settled in our booth with a round of drinks for the each of us, I turn to Joey as he’s fixing his curly bangs.  
“I had a great time tonight,” I tell him.  
“I did, too.” He shows me that little smile once again. I don’t want to lose this boy.  
“So Ginny,” Frankie begins after sipping down some lush red wine. “We’re gonna be playing a second night here in Seattle tomorrow. You gonna be joining us?”  
“Same time as tonight,” Danny chimes in.  
“I don’t see why not,” I confess to them even though I have to go back home to the Island and explain myself. “I had a great time tonight with you guys. And here’s to us—“  
I raise my glass and the five of them follow suit for a toast, and then we drink down in unison.


	7. the hushed words, the woman with a plan, and the soft hands

“So where to now?” Danny asks me as we step outside after dinner. It’s a warm, slightly humid night here in Seattle with the remaining twilight leaving the sky a rich royal blue in its wake. A gentle breeze blows in from the Sound behind us and even though it isn’t cold, I notice Frankie and Charlie shivering from their sweating earlier that evening. Seeing as they’re not from around here, I better pay them due course as a tour guide. Seattle, despite its obvious stature as a city, doesn’t really have the type of nightlife that’s akin to New York City, I know that much. But I’m also slightly more focused on what I’m going to tell Ben when I return home later on. I'm also trying to think of what to tell Lily, why neither of her parents could pick her up that day and she had to go to my parents' house.  
But I’m with them: I provide to these men here what they’re coming here for.  
“How ‘bout a walk on the beach?” I suggest, slinging my purse over my shoulder.  
“The beaches here are nothing like the ones we have,” Scott points out. "I know that much."  
“Not at all." I take a glimpse about the block: Benaroya is up the street and if we hang a left, we'll be down by the Showbox. "Let’s see... we’re a little too far from Alki Beach--it’s clear across the Bay back around here--but I’d be happy to take you fellas down here to the waterfront...”  
I lead the way up the sidewalk, past Pike Place, which is beginning to button up for the night, and towards a little hotel on the other side of the street, and we keep walking on down the sidewalk past the Rockstar Motel and the antique market until we’re met with a patch of rich lush green grass surrounded by twin weeping willows and some stubby little shrubs. The whole way down, Joey is to the left of me, while Scott and Frankie are to the right, and Danny and Charlie are behind me.  
I just imagined myself in a two piece bikini for these guys, for Joey in particular. I have one in the back of my closet that I'm sure is a little tight on me at this point, because it was a bit snug when I first bought it. But I shelve the thought once it comes to fruition.  
On top of everything else, I’ve learned, just by dressing up to the nines for auditions, that sometimes a little mystery goes a long way in leading someone on. And not for nothing, I’m gonna be joining them tomorrow night. I’m sure of it. I have to join them. I'll put on a show for them if they must desire it.  
As we’re nearing Alaskan Way, the five of them meet up with me so we’re like a posse walking down the street together: five New Yorkers and a de facto New Yorker, all the way towards the waterfront. When we reach the intersection, I turn for a look over at Frankie.  
“By the way, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Al Pacino?” I ask him. Charlie glances over at Frankie and bursts out laughing.  
“Maybe with longer hair,” Scott cracks.  
"Say hello to my little friend!" Frankie hollers over the pavement, and then we rush across the street towards Waterfront Park and its lush green grass like we're running from a bunch of mobsters. I've got five heads of long hair on either side of me, billowing back against the breeze. Once we reach the other side, we skid to a stop and then proceed to walk on down towards the water.  
And the whole entire time Joey is still silent, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his head slightly bowed so the breeze billows his curls back away from his head and his slender shoulders. Such a quiet boy and yet he has an electric rainbow in his mouth. I turn my head the other way to behold the view of the Space Needle rising strong and high over the rest of the city with its radiant blue and green lights.  
Scott and Danny hurry ahead of us towards a low dark bench near the edge of the water. They take their seats in unison and remove their shoes from their feet. Frankie and Charlie follow suit, which in turn leaves Joey and me to walk together in bringing up the rear. I adjust the strap on my purse once we reach the bench and Danny climbs to his feet to give me space.  
“Why, thank you,” I tell him, even though I don’t really feel like taking my shoes off at the moment.  
”You wanna tell her, Scott?” Charlie suggests to the man himself, who’s right next to me.  
”Tell me what?” I wonder aloud.  
“We’re gonna be touring with our friends Metallica in a few months,” he begins, tucking his socks inside of his Doc Martens, “over in Europe. Even though we’re paying our way over there--since Joey and Frankie both like you, and I like you, too, and I’m sure Charlie and Danny do, too--I want to ask if you’d be willing to join us.”  
“Europe, you said?” I repeat it.  
“Yeah--Metallica themselves finished up down in Berkeley for the time being, and they’re gonna pick up again in a couple of weeks and play more shows through August. They’ve been supporting Ozzy!”  
“It’s a ways off, though,” Frankie points out, “so, you know--you can plan ahead and whatnot.”  
“Well, of course! We should exchange phone numbers, though--just in case things come up, you know?”  
“Oh, yeah!” Scott declares. “Give us something to write on--we’ll give it to ya.”  
I only have some tissues inside of my purse but neither of them seem to mind. I pass one around with a pen for the each of them. Joey’s the last in line to give his to me but the first one I notice once I have it in hand.  
Charlie says something to Frankie right then, and then he scrambles to his feet and runs on down towards the water. Frankie and Danny follow him; Scott scoffs and shakes his head before standing up to follow them as well. I’m once again left alone with Joey. I’ll have to think of a plan later on, then: I lift my head to look at his lightly sun kissed face, darkened a touch more by the incoming nightfall. And yet when he gives his hair a little flick from his head, the afterglow of the city and the Space Needle make him appear as white as a ghost.  
“May I?” He offers me his hand and I smile at him. His palm is so soft, like silk, and he still has that gentle, delicate touch, as light as feather. I stand to my feet and straighten my spine so he can have a better look at my chest.  
“Awfully striking for New Yorkers, are we not,” he remarks.  
“Since when’d you start talking like Yoda?” I tease him.  
“Go, you must,” he jokes in a funny voice and I giggle at him.  
“We should probably join them,” I suggest to him.  
“You’re not gonna take your shoes off?” he asks me.  
“Nah. I don’t feel like taking off my Chucks.”  
“I hear ya on that. But let’s walk, though.”  
Indeed, we start walking side by side towards the other side of the grass, where we pick up the sounds of Charlie and Frankie laughing about something, and Scott cracking jokes. We pass a weeping willow that’s in full bloom with its large spoon-shaped green leaves rustling in the breeze. I sigh through my nose.  
“I have to confess,” I start to him, “I often feel like I’m too fat.”  
“What? Really?” He stops me right in place so he can shake his head at me.  
“I don’t think you are,” he remarks, checking me out. “I think you have lovely curves.”  
”You’re just saying that ‘cause of this shirt,” I point out.  
”No. Not at all, although the shirt is definitely a part of it. I thought you were a good looking woman when we ran into each other on the street this morning.”  
He runs his hands down my forearms. In the dim light, I can tell he’s looking right at my hips; in fact, he even licks his lips at the sight of my body curving out.  
“I mean, you really do in fact have,” he swallows and clears his throat, “--very lovely curves. Very sensual. Perfect for a dancer.”  
Scott says something and the three of them howl with laughter down by the water’s edge, but Joey is firmly fixated upon me.  
“It’s a shame I live over on the Island,” I confess to him.  
“Why, you wanna join us in our hotel tonight?” he teases me.  
“No, even though that’d be totally rad, though. I could invite the five of you over for dinner tomorrow night after your show. The ferries run pretty late so it’s not like any one of us’ll be stranded either there or here on the mainland.”  
“You’d do that for us?”  
“Totally. My grandma once told me that the best way to treat someone well is feed them.”  
Even though the light is dim, I can make out the shape of olive-y moon-like face showing me a quaint little smile. He really is like a creature of the night.  
“So you’ll think about coming to Europe with us?” he asks, letting go of my arms and turning the other way so the lingering rays of twilight shine over his skin.  
“Definitely. And I’ll be joining you fellas tomorrow night, same time same place.”  
“Charlie just caught a case of crabs,” Danny announces to us, out of breath.  
“A case of crabs?” I chuckle at that but I’m also slightly mortified. Charlie then runs up towards us with what I can tell is a hermit crab on the back of his hand, and Joey and I can’t help but laugh at that.


	8. the first lie, the work schedule, and the cup of coffee

I didn’t return home until about ten o’clock and by that point, I had completely forgotten about my home life for a little while. I had my attention on Scott’s jokes, Frankie and Charlie goofing around, Danny’s sweetness, and most of all, Joey. Around the time of their curfew at nine-fifteen, I had a feeling he might be into me given he always wanted to be closer to me and also touch me. That moment under the weeping willow was without a doubt an excuse to touch me and better examine me. In fact, when it was time for them to march back to their hotel rooms for the night, the last thing Joey did was smell the palm of his hand after touching my arm one last time.  
I know for a fact what that means. Ben never did anything like that to me when we first started going out, but I know Joey’s intention, though.  
And I kept it firmly in my mind on the ferry ride back to the Island and on the drive home. The fact I live here only returns to me when I’m driving around the corner before my house and I notice that the house itself is as dark as the night around me. I pull into the driveway, kill the engine, and fetch up a sigh. I can only imagine what the state of the house is in at the moment.  
I sling my purse over my shoulder and make my way up to the front step. I have a feeling I don’t want to know as I find the front door is unlocked.  
The house is dark but I can hear Lily down the hall. Even though it’s dark, I make my way over to her room to check on her. I have no idea where Ben is, nor do I even know if he’s asleep, but she is my focus right now.  
I take a seat on the edge of her bed to hold her. I think about the offer to go to Europe with them and Metallica, and I recall my telling Joey and Frankie about my desire to move to New York. I might have to save my money more often now.

************************

The next morning, after changing into my uniform and putting my bracelets and the same black blouse I wore yesterday into my purse, I took Lily to daycare early and on the way, I told her Grandpa would come pick her up later that day again. Apparently Ben got blackout drunk last night about an hour before I came home, so before I went to bed, I called my dad and told him I was given more hours at work all the while. It took me a little more convincing towards him especially since it was getting late, but I managed to get through to him. It was a slightly jagged pill to swallow on my part, given I had to lie to my dad, but there isn’t much other choice for me other than that.  
Like with yesterday, I’m boarding the ferry with absolutely no expectations, but I also wish Frankie was here so I could have a companion on the ride across the Sound. I reach the pier on the other side of the water and proceed the walk up the street towards the cafe. I even expect to see Joey at the crosswalk, awaiting the light change. I still have both men in mind as I reach the cafe.  
I stride through the front door to find all five of them taking their seats at the counter, as if they had just walked in themselves. Scott turns around in time to spot me.  
“Hey, there’s our girl!” he decrees with a big beaming smile.  
“Hey, Ginny!” Frankie greets me as I round the side of the bar.  
“‘Morning, my gents,” I return the favor to them with a grin and a toss of my black hair. “How’re you fellas doing?”  
“Hungry,” Danny answers.  
“Famished,” Charlie adds.  
“And wanting some coffee,” Frankie joins in. I turn to find Joey sitting at the end with his arms folded over the top of the counter. He bows his head so his bangs hid his eyebrows and a part of his eyes. I give him a sweet little smile in return. I like this little coy front he’s putting up for me.  
But as I’m picking up the pen from the shelf, I notice he’s eyeing my wedding band on my left hand. I forgot to take it off!  
“That’s a good-looking ring for your hand,” he remarks.  
“Oh yeah, that’s a good look for you, Ginny,” Danny adds.  
“My grandma gave it to me,” I cover for them. “It’s a little big for my pinkie but a little small for my middle finger, though.” I clock in, and set down the pen, and lean my elbow against the edge of the counter. I feel the top button on my shirt struggling to stay fastened right within Joey’s line of sight. I almost want to reveal my whole chest to him, but I’d get fired if I was ever caught.  
That reminds me... I head on back to the kitchen to check my hours. They’ll go back to New York after today but I’m staying here. I need to be with them. This is a golden opportunity for me to leave this old life and join them, these five boys, my boys, back East. But I need more time.  
And yet this time is all there is. They’re going to Europe in a couple of months. I need to figure out my schedule. I return to the counter with a brave face.  
“So what can get you five dude-skis on this fine morning here in the Emerald City?”  
They were eager to stay with me for most of the morning: every time I stepped over to Joey for a refill of his water glass or his white mug of coffee, he always lowered his head to hide his eyes part of the way. Maybe it just is a sweet notion on his part and I’m overthinking things. Maybe he really is only but a darling with nothing more than the spirit of a young innocent boy.  
But maybe, just maybe, from the memory of his soaring voice and then hearing him sing again later that evening, there is indeed something behind those black diamonds. It’s a nebulous feeling that I find myself swaying into to the cathartic rhythms of their music. It was such that I found myself dancing along with them.  
I closed my eyes and let their rhythms and their masculinity take over me. Charlie thundered along, guiding my hips and my thighs, while Scott and Danny sent me into a deep euphoric state. Frankie roamed about like wandering plant tendrils.   
And then there was Joey.   
Joey in all his raw power and his swift clip more formidable than any hard rock singer I had ever heard in my life. So raw that I found myself wanting to make love to his voice.  
After the show, the five of them lead me into the quaint little coffee shop on the other side of Benaroya. It’s another warm summer evening but Scott and Charlie had insisted on it. The six of us are seated near the back of the room: Joey and I have our backs against the bright colored brick wall and our feet up on the luxurious plush cushions as we’re awaiting for our lattes. Scott and Charlie step away for a moment to fetch our drinks. Frankie disappeared to make a phone call while Danny had ducked off into the men’s room.  
The coffee shop is alive and bustling with the concert goers but neither of us mind it. I know Joey doesn’t mind it as it’s just the two of us here.  
“Later on, after we’re coffee’d up,” he suggests, “you like to come upstairs with me?”  
“Upstairs? To your room?”  
“Yes. I want to get closer to you, and—“ He clears his throat. “—I feel better doing it in an intimate place. You know—there were points I found you dancing, like when you were dancing earlier to ‘Metal Thrashing Mad,’ I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty hot. You know, with your hips gyrating to and fro like that to Charlie’s drums...”  
“... and the feeling of Scott and Danny’s guitars,” I follow along, “swirling together and carrying me higher and higher into everything...”  
“Frank’s bass rumbling around in your belly,” he adds, setting a hand upon his flat stomach.  
“And of course—that voice. That sensual, hypnotic, alluring voice.”  
“Sensual,” he echoes, pouting his bottom lip a bit, “that’s a new one.”  
“I could’ve said ‘sexy’, you know.” And he raises an eyebrow at me. And I take a look down at the sight of his hand brushing against my arm. He sniffs his hand against Scott and Charlie are approaching us with cups of coffee in hand. I guess we are going upstairs.  
“Do I have to ask?” I start to him.  
“It smells like you,” he confesses in a soft voice. “Come on—let’s go have dinner.”


	9. the dinner with anthrax, the dance, and the one bed

“Right this way—”  
Their hotel is about two blocks away from Benaroya, and in what is perhaps the perfect spot given it’s within range of the waterfront, the Space Needle, Pike Place, a bar, and the little chocolate place on the corner. I know I have to be home soon, to be with Lily again. But the five of them are more fixated on bringing me into the front room of this cute but swanky little hotel for a bite to eat. There’s a buffet in the front room here, albeit a small one, with clean ivory white plates on one side of the counter.  
“So we just take a plate and whatever we want?” I ask them.  
“Correct-a-mundo,” Scott replies with a raise of those thick eyebrows, taking a step forward for a plate; Charlie follows suit, then Frankie and Danny, followed by Joey and me. I take a big spoonful of cooked vegetables and a big helping of saffron rice when he offers me a couple of potstickers with those metal tongs.  
“Ooh yes please,” I raise my plate and he plunks down those ones, followed by another one.  
“More?” he offers.  
“Just a couple. I want you to have some.”  
“You’re too kind,” he says with a little cock to his head like he’s playing coy. Once he gives me a couple more, he helps himself and then we move onto helpings of orange chicken. Since I’m being treated to dinner, I decide to make the most of this evening and take some extra chicken. To top this off, I don’t know if we have food at home.  
Scott and Charlie had already taken their seats at a long table tucked in the far corner of the room. Meanwhile, Joey and I have our loaded plates, myself with the larger of the two. Danny gapes at me as I’m sitting next to him and across from Joey and Frankie.  
“Wow,” he remarks.  
“She’s a dancer, Danny,” Frankie points out, lifting a bite of rice to his mouth. “Whaddya want.”  
“Well, of course. It’s just—wow. I have never seen that much food in one sitting before.”  
“Not even with Joey?” I ask him.  
“Nah, I'm modest compared to you,” Joey himself chimes in.  
“You fellas should’ve seen me eat a few years ago, though,” I point out, picking up a potsticker; “this was like a snack.” I take a bite of it and the juices almost run down my chin. Frankie laughs as I catch myself and Charlie flashes me a thumbs-up from down the table. This turned out to be yet another lovely evening with Anthrax, having dinner with them, but this time in a place they wanted to take me. I’m eager to meet Metallica, if and when I get the chance in a few months.  
And the whole entire time, even after my second and third helpings, and dessert, Joey is quiet. It came to a point, where I was putting away the couple of brownies I had swiped from the dessert table, I figured it’s almost as if he wants it to be just between me and him, as he flashed fleeting glimpses at me from across the table while eating his rice and his chicken, and even more so with his little dish of hot fudge sundae.  
Indeed, once Scott, Charlie, and Frankie finish up and put their dirty dishes on the rack on the other side of the room, and Danny takes his brownies upstairs with him, the two of us are in fact left behind there. Joey drinks down the final sip of water before piping up again.  
“Wanna come upstairs?”  
I’ve had plenty to tithe me over the rest of the night and maybe into the morning, and I don’t have any desire to return home given I had eaten so much. Thus, I shrug at him.  
“I don’t see why not,” I agree to him, and he shows me a quaint little Mona Lisa smile in response. We stand to our feet, only for him to lead me back to his little room on the second floor. It’s nice and cool in here with the lacy white shades and the air conditioner going. As I set down my purse on the table, I notice the plush looking queen sized bed to my left, and that there’s a record player tucked in the right corner. He closes the door behind him.  
“So you were gonna do Plant, Page, Jonesy, and Bonzo,” he recalls in a soft voice.  
“I was, yes.” He steps past me towards the player and crouches down next to it. He even brought a couple of records with him. I watch him take out one from its sleeve and stick it onto the phonograph. He puts the needle on and whirls around to face me, his lacy curls floating with him, and then he extends his hand for me to take.  
“May I have this dance?” he asks as “Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You” starts playing. I clasp a hand to my chest.  
“Please.” I take his hand and he’s gentle as he pulls me a bit close to his body. I feel his other hand on the middle of my back. Quiet, modest, and polite. I have all but forgotten how much I love to dance to this song from the heavy rhythm to the pained emotion written all over the place. Indeed, the music makes me sway, or maybe perhaps it’s from him and the gentle motions of his shapely but narrow hips and toned thighs.  
I relax upon gazing into his big brown eyes under those nappy bangs and those straight dark eyebrows. Still so mysterious.  
“I wish it was the Seventies again,” I whisper to him. He swallows as he holds even me closer to his svelte lanky body.  
“Me, too,” he confesses as the music picks up. “Like sometimes I wish I could be in school again. You know, I could play hockey and sing to the Beatles and to Boston again.”  
I raise my arm to give him a twirl and then he returns to me with his curls and ringlets tousled. I can’t help but gaze into his eyes some more. He is like a magnet with those deep dark pools.  
“And,” I add, feeling more relaxed in his presence: he’s feeling more comfortable himself with his hand sliding down my back towards the seat of my pants; “to be with all the punks, and the Goths, and the rockers... all of us roaming about in the disco parlors and the nightclubs, smoking a little pot, and watching Blazing Saddles and The Godfather.”  
“Make you an offer you can’t refuse,” he replies with bit of a smart tone, and I have to giggle at that: he raises my arm over my head to twirl me at the next pick up. I meet up with him again and he tugs me even closer to him. It could be from the fact we had a lot of dinner just a bit ago, but he feels so warm. His chest and his stomach are radiating with the softest, most comforting feeling, like he’s welcoming me into him.  
My eyes are locked onto those lush brown irises, those black diamonds: I’m mere inches from those smooth dark lips. Meanwhile, his other hand creeps further away from the band of my jeans. We have only known each other for a couple of days but after everything back home, a part of me decreed death for him. I’m ready to die for him.  
“Will you?” I ask him in a loud enough voice for him to hear.  
“Will I what?”  
“Make me an offer I can’t refuse?”  
He swallows again as his free hand continues to teeter over the curvature of the seat of my pants. I let the fingers on my free hand follow the curvature of his spine, all the way down to his hips. He parts his lips at me before truly answering me.  
“Would you like to stay the night?” he offers me, lowering his voice to a near whisper.  
“There’s only one bed, though.”  
“There might be only one bed, but there is in fact only one night left for us here in Seattle.” The song nears its end right then with Robert’s crooning and Page’s guitar twirling and wondering into a delicate spiral. “I have my hockey jersey with me. It’s clean—you can sleep in that if you’d like.”  
“Yes. I’ll do it.”  
“Good choice,” he whispers into my face as that trumpeter note cries out. For a split second, I thought he would kiss me, but I suppose that would have to wait until the morning.


	10. the morning after, the muffins, and the tape recorder

I open my eyes to the sight of milky sunlight shining a small sliver upon the ceiling overhead, and it takes me a moment to realize that this is the hotel room. The sheets are clean, the room smells soft, and it’s quiet in here. I need not worry about things at the moment.

It takes me another second to realize it’s Joey laying next to me on the bed with his arms around me and snuggled close to me.

I am waking up in a strange bed with another man, but I feel more than okay with it.

At some point I had taken off my shirt, and thus I lay there under the covers, feeling his smooth brown skin caress over my bare chest. His fingers lazily lay upon my breastbone, these light little tips on my skin as light as feathers.

I feel his bare knees brushing against the side of my thigh. I don’t know if he’s naked under the covers here, but seeing as I have no shirt or bra on, it would not surprise me in the least.

I glance over at his serene face, all gentle from his closed eyes and a few stray wavy jet black locks over his face. I examine the edge of his nose—so straight! Like the edge of a clean cut diamond.

I roll my head over the pillow for a look right into his soft face. His dark lips are as smooth as tempered chocolate. It’s just me and him here. Why not?

I give him a little kiss on the mouth and his lips tremble a bit in response. I kiss him again and he cracks me a playful smirk: more hair falls into his face.

“Good morning,” I breathe out at him, and he groans in his throat, like a little kid who doesn’t want to wake up.

“Did we have sex?” I ask him. He rolls his head out from the pillow for a peek at me from beneath his disheveled hair.

“Did we have sex, is that what you asked me?” His voice breaks upon answering me.

“Yeah. I can’t remember if we did or not, though.”

“Nah. When you told me you were starting to feel sleepy, I was, too. So I did cuddle up next to you and help you out with your bra, though, I will say that. But I haven’t taken my hand off of you, I can tell.”

I smile at him as I nestle even closer to his thin little body. He had in fact, taken off his shirt, but he kept on his shorts.

“Wanna make out, though?” he offers me.

I roll over onto my side to be even closer into his face and that innocent expression riding upon it. His hair smells soft and clean, as if he had just washed it. I press my lips onto his, while he sets his hand upon my lower back. His stomach and his chest, while both of which are as flat as an ironing board, are soft and welcoming; as safe as I have ever felt in a long time.

He lets his fingers do the talking, all the way down the crease of my back and onto my hip. He’s gentle to slip his fingers under the side of my panties.

I let my tongue slip into his lips and onto his teeth.

I feel his fingers snaking towards the skin right between my thighs. He’s going to do it to spice things up a bit. I let my breathing pick up from his touch.

Gentle groans escape from the inside of his throat: we’re both surrendering to the feeling between us. I have wanted this for three years, since the time before my daughter was born and before Ben and I even considered a formal marriage between us.

His fingertips worm their way onto my lips. And that’s when I slip my tongue out from his mouth.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” I demand from him in a hushed tone. He flutters his prominent dark eyelashes at me, as if trying to play innocent.

“Pleasuring you,” he sputters, “at least I hope I am?”

I giggle at him.

“You’re a finger kinda guy,” I remark with a smirk.

“Fingers and titties, baby doll,” he corrects me.

“Funny, I’ve always been a butt girl myself.”

“T and A is where it’s at!” He snaps his eyes shut at that last word.

“You’re so cute,” I giggle at him before kissing him again. He holds there right before my face to gaze into my eyes: those rich deep brown eyes utterly swallow me whole.

“My belly’s rumbling,” he tells me.

“Your belly’s rumbling? Aw, baby boy wants some breakfast?”

“Pretty please?” He bows his head and pouts his bottom lip bit for a rather coy, innocent look at me. I brush some of the hair out from his face so I can see him.

“What would you like?” I ask him, and he rolls over part of the way onto his back to show me his neck and shoulders.

“I’m feeling muffins right now,” he confesses. “Muffins and pancakes.”

“Muffins and pancakes? My goodness, Joey. If you eat like that all the time, your gorgeous tummy will get all big and bloated.”

“Gorgeous?” He seems genuinely surprised by that remark as he rolls his head over for a glimpse at me. I prop my head up on my hand, and then I examine his chest and his stomach.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” I repeat myself. “So, so lovely. And I will say this, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Good boys eat until their lovely, sexy flat tummies are nice and full. So let’s get you something to eat.”

Danny and Frankie are downstairs at the breakfast buffet, pouring themselves cups of coffee and taking some scrambled eggs for themselves, but I’m here for mine and Joey’s enjoyment. There are blueberry muffins and chocolate ones, but no pancakes. But there is plenty of sliced fruit abound here, and thus I take a bowl full of melon and sliced strawberries for the two of us to share.

I’m more than happy to fetch the both of us things to eat because I know he’ll eat it and he’ll feel even closer to me.

Indeed, once I return to the room and hand him his blueberry muffin, he shows me that same quaint little Mona Lisa smile. I take a seat next to him there on the side of the bed with our legs stretched out before us and the bowl resting in between us. I offer him a slice of cantaloupe and he takes it with a lick of his lips and an excited twinkle in his eye.

He’s a very gentle, peaceful, low-slung boy, even with his skin-tight jeans and cool demeanor. I never want to leave this room or his side: I want to lay with him forever and forget I was ever over on Bainbridge Island. I mean no offense whatsoever to Ben and especially to Lily, but Ginny was made for the starry-eyed life. To shake her rump to this band’s quick and weirdly sensual rhythms. To be with this dark-haired sweet boy while moving out East to be around them as well as her mother.

But alas, I cannot. Joey gets a knock on the door telling him they’re packing up and heading back home for the time being. At least until they fly out to Europe with Metallica.

But he’s kind enough to help me put my bra back on, which grants him the excuse to fondle down my chest. I also help him slip on his jeans, which gives me a reason to feel up the sides of his thighs and give his butt a little squeeze. I help him lug his things out to their little shabby black van, which is parked by the curb. Scott rounds the front grill of the van with his sunglasses in hand and the warm sun rays shining upon his face, which beckons a squint from him.

“Alright, gentlemen. Next stop, Sea-Tac airport.” He puts on his sunglasses and that’s when Joey turns to me. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a little black rectangle.

“Here...” he whispers, handing it to me, “take this.”

“What is it?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“My voice. Sometimes I like to record myself a capella. For your personal listening pleasure.” He flashes a wink at me. Charlie and Frankie step out of the front door of the hotel right then. To think I hadn’t treated them to the little chocolate place next door.

“And this is from the five of us—“ Joey puts his arms around me and holds me close to his slim, delicate body. Even being so thin, and the whole grand scheme of things feeling rather too warm for hugs, he manages to stay just right, perfectly warm and soft.

I feel a few locks of hair being pushed aside from the side of my neck. He puts his lips on the side of my neck, a feeling which almost forces my knees into a buckle.

“Oh—“ I gasp and pull back to look at him right in the face. “What was that for?”

“That’s from me.” And he shows me a warm but quaint little smile. And I know what he means now.

“Oh—Oh, my.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Joey,” is all I can breathe out over the noise of the street.

“Here, lemme do it again—“

I tilt my head back for him to kiss the side of my neck, a gentle feeling that makes my toes curl inside of my shoes. His smooth lips caress over my skin with so much softness and so much love. He lifts his head to better look at me.

“Having a little fun, Joey?” Scott teases him, and then he jerks back his head.

“Call me when you get there,” I tell him; but at the same time, I worry about him calling the house, especially with Ben there.

“Of course.”


	11. the evening alone, the phone call, and the next dance

I was at home for about a few hours after the fact when Ben realized I had been gone overnight. I began contemplating what to make for dinner that evening when he pointed that out to me. I am amazed he even realized that given the past binges over the past couple of days.

He sat there across the kitchen table from me with his eyes blurred and reddened, but his speech as clear as a bell. He asked me something, something I can’t exactly recall because I was more focused on Joey calling me there at home.

This I feel is where I’ll be found out, that the phone will ring and Ben will answer and hear Joey’s voice. I wasn’t able to listen to the tape he gave me on the ferry ride home, either: I need to find a moment when I can for that.

Ben sat there for about twenty minutes with his head bowed just enough to shield his eyes from me. I grabbed myself a cup of lemonade and took to my seat again.

Once I have it almost finished, he lifts his head all of a sudden. Blinking several times, he stares on at me with a hollow expression in his eye. Those tired, bloodshot, jaundiced eyes, staring back at me past the point of no return.

I clear my throat once I’ve drank down the last sip of lemonade.

“So where’s Lily?” I ask him as I climb to my feet. He shudders and shakes as if he’s cold, even though it’s rather warm here in the kitchen. I stride past him to the sink as he sits there in silence. He’s silent as I rinse out the glass and tuck the dish towel into my front pocket.

I chew on my bottom lip once I figure the five of them must be home by now, and New York being three hours ahead, it makes sense that Joey would pick up the phone and give me a ring. He did promise to call me when he got home.

“Ben,” I start again, hovering next to him with my hands pressed on my hips. “Ben, where’s Lily?”

He is still silent, as silent as the rest of the house.

“Go find our daughter,” I order him.

“She’s at your dad’s house,” he blurts out.

“Well, is my dad bringing her home?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I was gonna go up there to pick her up...”

“And when was that?”

“This morning. I think.”

“You think?”

“It might’ve been yesterday.”

“Ben!”

“Hey, you weren’t home yesterday and all last night. You weren’t there to remind me.”

“Remind you?” I gape at him. He never looks up at me, to top it off. “Ben, why do you think I should’ve reminded you when I was at work?”

He’s still silent. I fold my arms over my chest.

“Tell me, Ben,” I persist. “What makes you think I should’ve reminded you?”

He never answers but instead runs out of there like his pants are on fire. Once I hear the door slam shut, I shake my head and roll my eyes at the whole thing.

“Wow,” I mutter aloud. But without another word, I decide to make Lily’s favorite dinner of pigs in a blanket with tomato soup, even though it’s a relatively warm evening again here on the Island. I start thinking of Joey again and that tape recorder he had given me. Since I am in fact alone, maybe I should take it out of my purse and give it a listen.

I’m about to put the dough with the little hot dogs embedded within into the oven when the phone rings. I run over to it there on the wall and pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” I recognize that gentle upstate New York accent.

“Oh, hi,” I reply to him in a soft voice and I can’t resist the smile on my face. “Did you just get home?”

“I did, yeah. Like the first thing I did once I set down my things was pick up my phone here.”

He clears his throat and I catch the sound of something creaking in the background.

“What was that?” I ask him.

“What was what?”

“That noise in the background.”

“Oh, that’s just the chair. I’m sitting here on my back step looking out to the Lake before I go take a shower and then go to bed—I wish you could see it right now.”

“Is it lovely?”

“Like a big stretch of diamonds over total darkness. Glamorous and gorgeous... just like you.”

I giggle at him, complete with my fingers over my lips.

“So what’re you up to? How’s life in Ginny-land?”

“I’m making dinner right now.”

“Oh? What’cha makin’?”

“Pigs in a blanket with tomato soup.”

“Oh my God, that sounds so delicious.”

“It was all I could think of offhand. I need to go shopping soon.”

The chair creaks again as he’s trying to get comfortable.

“You know, I was thinking about what you said to me earlier after we made out. How good boys eat until their gorgeous, flat tummies are nice and full.”

“Mm-hmm?” I run the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip.

“You know, I haven’t eaten yet. I only just got home and took my shirt off—“ He hesitates. Oh, to feel him again up close to me. To feel his naked soft skin close to my own.

“Better eat something,” I whisper into the mouthpiece. “Better eat something warm and fill out that tummy of yours.”

“Thinking about it. And you know—I’ve got my feet up on the rail right now and I’m looking down at my stomach—“ He clears his throat.

“—I kinda wish you were here to put your hands all over me,” he continues in a breathy voice. “All over my belly. I want you to feel me again.”

“Your skin is so soft there,” I remark. “And on your chest. You’re so soft and silky smooth to the touch. And I wanna feel you again.”

He makes a relaxed groan, one that I know is from the inside of his throat.

“You know when I was learning how to dance,” I start again, twirling a lock of hair around my finger, “one thing I noticed is the stomach is in fact very sensual and sexy, especially in belly dancing.”

“You want me to belly dance for you when we see each other again, don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Come on, admit it.”

“I won’t deny it. Shaking your ass, showing me that stunning body of yours...”

He snickers on his end.

“What’s so funny?” I tease him.

“I don’t really have much of an ass to shake, though,” he points out, stifling a chuckle. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

“No, you won’t!” I assure him. “Or you can just show me your skin, all from your neck down to your hips, and maybe your legs, too. Show me your skin as you’re singing and letting everything hang out. That’s what the Seattle punks always do.”

“Oh God,” he gasps, “oh, God, I love it when you talk about the music you’ve encountered.”

“Encounter, like what you want me to do to you again?”

“Please,” he begs. “Oh, please, come away with us to Europe!”

“I’ll try, baby. It’s still a ways off, though. I’ve got time to plan.”

He fetches up a sigh and I hear the chair creak once more.

“I already miss the hell out of you,” he softly confesses.

“I miss you, too. But I’ll get to it, though. I promise. Go eat, Joey. Go eat and show your belly some love, and then enjoy your shower—“ I pause for a moment at the thought of him being all naked and drenched in warm bath water. “—and then sleep tight for me.”

“I will, honey pie.” I hear him give me a kiss on his end before hanging up. I put the phone back and sigh through my nose. I hang there in silence for a moment before I put the pigs in a blanket into the oven.

Once I turn on the heat, I head into the living room. I’m still alone for the time being.

I spot my purse on the couch and I take a quick seat to listen to this recording. I fish it out of there, and press play, and hold it up to my ear.

It’s just him singing a capella.

Some kind of song about Medusa.

He sounds so frightened and timid, and yet so fresh, straight out of the backwoods of New York State. His vibrato is gentle, and mellow, and strangely erotic, like he’s singing all the way from in between his hips. He’s tickling me, leaving me feeling lighter than air and softer than the silky skin under his belly button.

I need to move, to let his energy flow through me. I stop the tape and run over to the old record player in the corner. There’s that old Santana album in the back of the library. Perfect!

I put it on and let those driving rhythms guide me along.

My hips swing and grind to those spicy drums. Carlos’ guitar croons with the impending darkness around me. That warm smell of the pigs in a blanket starts to float into the room.

But all I can think of is soft body pressed against mine.

“Oh, Joey,” I whisper under the waves of music. I put my arms around me as I fall back onto the couch. I need to fly out to Europe with them. But how?


	12. the dress, the corner, and the whore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“I lost myself on a cool damp night  
>  I gave myself in that misty light  
> Was hypnotized by a strange delight  
> Under a lilac tree.”_  
> -“Lilac Wine”, Jeff Buckley

Over the last couple of weeks, I had carefully bode my time and resources to saving up to fly out to New York to visit the boys. I had made the vow with Joey over the phone that I would, and I want to go with them to Europe, to do the tour life with them. I even set aside extra money at the bottom of my purse in order to buy a plane ticket over to New York City. They’re not out of my budget, but I have to be careful and be wary of it all in the case of Ben wanting to know what I’m doing with an extra stash of money at the base of my purse.

At some point in the heat of July, and after my birthday, I began to miss the sound of Joey’s voice, the way it creeps and crawls around with that upstate accent. The smell of his cologne and his skin. The feel of his skin pressed up against my own. The feel of his black ringlets entwined in my fingers. And those deep brown eyes staring back at me like the soul of the earth.

On the particular nights where Lily had managed to fall asleep early and Ben passed out after a drink and a half in the wake of it all, I found myself laying on the couch again and wanting to hear him again. To even so much as hear the sound of his voice, whether it was his soaring sensual singing one or even that placid speaking one, I wanted to hear him.

Last night, I couldn’t hardly take another second of it after I had climbed out of the shower. Lily was in bed and Ben had fallen asleep on the back porch after having one too many to drink yet again.

I had the towel atop my head and nothing on my body as I stride down the hallway to the kitchen.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number. It rang once, then twice. A chill ran over my skin and down my arms. I pressed my elbows in closer to my body; I looked down at my chest and the points forming on the ends of my breasts.

“Come on, Joey,” I muttered under my breath, “pick up—pick up—“

I caught his machine.

“Hey, it’s Joe Belladonna, I’m either not home or I’m passed out somewhere. Either way, leave a message.”

That in and of itself was enough to put me at ease, if only for a second.

“Hi, Joey—it’s Ginny. Just calling because I wanna tell you that I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again. I’m also naked right now, just got out of the shower... I’m just thinking of the time we were in bed together so...” I paused to make sure Ben wasn’t eavesdropping on me. I was alone in the kitchen, and thus I returned to the mouthpiece of the phone.

“...so... I wanna wear something sexy for you the next time we see each other again. I want it to be a surprise so be prepared, baby boy. Kiss kiss.”

I hung up the phone and ambled back to the bedroom to put some clothes.

Meanwhile, at the moment, I’m at the little dress shop across the street from Cherry Street Coffee Shop and a few blocks from the actual Port of Seattle: I came over here on the ferry ride with the Space Needle rising high up over everything else. So conspicuous among such an otherwise nondescript setting: makes me think of those five guys in a way. They’re so obvious among a buttoned down landscape that is the Pacific Northwest.

It’s cool and dark in here, the perfect escape from the intense midsummers’ heat with a death grip on Seattle. I had put my hair up in a taut bun atop my head: in conjunction with my sunglasses, I actually resemble to Audrey, albeit with a bit more weight on my body.

I stride through the rows of dresses, in search of anything that catches my eye. Near the back of the shop stands a short metal rack with dresses which had been marked down. I flip through them, past a couple of sundresses, a ballroom gown, and something without much of a waist. And then, like a stroke of magic, there, hanging off of a wiry hanger, is this rich dark maroon, almost the color of red wine, velvet dress with a low plunging neckline and tiny black glittery speckles on the otherwise light skirt. I hold it before me for a second.

I’m sure it’ll fit me as I make my way to the dressing room nearby. I shut the door, and hang up my purse on the hook on the wall next to me, and strip off my blouse and my shorts.

I try on the dress, putting my arms into the straps and tugging the top up my chest until the zipper on the side comes within my range. I pull up the zipper and hesitate to check it out. The cups hug my breasts while showing some extra skin on my chest and the bodice shows of the hourglass curvature of my body. I gaze on the reflection before me.

There’s a part of me that wishes I was skinny again, to be down to the old svelte, elegant figure I had in high school. To rid of this slight belly jutting out from my middle; but touching myself there to feel the velvet on my flesh, I think back to when Joey and I were laying in his hotel bed. His fingers touching me, his body pressed skin tight against my own.

It might not be _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ , and I may not be Holly Golightly, but I stand there in my sandals with my bun on my head and my hips cocked to the side a bit to bring more attention to my waist. He is going to love this.

Since it was marked down, today is my lucky day in that I only paid ten bucks for an otherwise thirty dollar dress. Now I’m striding down the street with the paper bag in hand, my purse slung over my shoulder, and my sunglasses back on. I feel like Audrey again. I am sure all of this is going to go well, and I have the story I made up to tell to Ben memorized to the last word.

But on the other hand, I have my worries about taking such a steep risk. The obvious being I am leaving behind a life of comfort and venturing into the unknown. I have known Ben for so long that it almost doesn’t feel right to head on out without him. He has been my rock since high school that if I was to leave now for any reason, either to head up to my dad’s house or go all the way out to visit my mom. I can’t. I just can’t.

I also have this pervading thought lingering in the back of my mind that tells me he’ll find me out there. I’m a dancer, I’m an up-and-coming star: he’ll find me, and I am in fact positive of it. And knowing how he’s been as of late, there’s no way I am getting out of this in one piece. Indeed, now that I give it some more thought, there is no way the five of them are getting out in one piece themselves. They’re the other men, and even though Ben has fallen off the wagon and descended down the spiral, he’s not dumb.

I stand there on the corner, anticipating the crossing onto the other side of the street. Suddenly this wave of doubt sweeping over me comes to a head as I pad over the crosswalk. It’s about to get real very soon here, in a couple of weeks time. And walking about these crowded streets is adding to it. It’s such a rush of adrenaline to my head that I almost want to start dancing in the streets. Dancing in the streets! Not so much walking, but dancing!

I feel like a whore, but I am in fact Joey’s whore.


	13. the quiet hours, the next phone call, and the trip

_Late August, 1986. Bainbridge Island, Washington_.

It had taken me nearly two whole months to save up enough money, little by little from my weekly paycheck, to buy myself a plane ticket down at Sea-Tac Airport. I had the whole trip down there planned out in my head because I needn’t risk writing anything down where Ben can find it. I never showed him my dress, which I kept hidden in the back of my closet until I found another opportunity to give Joey another ring to find out when they’re leaving for Europe.  
I itched to hear him again. I even went into the little record shop in Belltown to check out any of the music they had there. The only works they had in supply was a pair of albums, _Fistful of Metal_ and _Spreading the Disease._ I had no idea which one Joey sang on given I couldn’t take a peek into the liner notes, but regardless I have to spend my money wisely: I need not risk putting down a couple of bucks on a record that I probably won’t play unless Ben passes out outside on the deck again, and I have a fifty-fifty chance of hearing Joey or their previous singer.  
There was one point during a rather hot afternoon, I clocked out for my lunch break and ducked outside to the brick wall where I had had drinks with Joey and Frankie. I took a seat and opened my purse; I never took the tape recorder out of there, even when I had my moments alone. I took it out of the hiding place tucked at the bottom as I put my feet up on the wall so my whole body was protected by the shade from the torrid sun. The noise of the traffic was rather low that day but I still put it up to my ear to hear Joey’s voice again after not hearing it for what felt like an eternity.  
His voice shot through the noise of the traffic to the left of me and put me at ease. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to feel him again.  
There was a small part near the end of the tape where he cleared his throat and hummed for a second, which brought a little smile to my face. So raw and honest, just like the Seattle punks.  
At some point around the start of the month, I began coming home from work to a quiet house. The first couple of days, I strode on down the hall to Lily’s room to check on her: my guess was that Ben lay her down to sleep. I dared not risk waking her to tell her that Mama was home. The hours after work were so quiet and humdrum that I felt myself beginning to itch for excitement. I couldn’t hardly contain my restlessness within the second to last week.  
Night has fallen over the Island and I can’t hardly sleep. Lily and Ben are both sound asleep early, much to my advantage. I think back to the first phone call I had with Joey and the description of the lake outside of his porch. The stars glimmer and twinkle up in the dark sky like tiny diamonds. I amble into the kitchen, careful not to wake Lily, and I pick up the phone and dial his number.  
It rings once. Twice.  
“Hello?”  
“Hi,” I greet him in a soft voice.  
“Oh, hi, Ginny. I just thinking about you… I got your message by the way… I–” He clears his throat. “–I just cannot wait to see what tricks you’ve got up your sleep. Sleeve, I mean.”  
“Is everything alright?” I kindly ask him. “Did I wake you?”  
“Oh, no, I just–had… some late night dinner with Lars–Lars from Metallica–and his girlfriend, and Scott and his wife, and we all had some wine with it so I’m little tipsy at the moment.”  
“Now, now, you mustn’t be drinking too much,” I tease him, wagging my finger even though he can’t see me.  
“Oh, I swear to you, I’m not. It was just…” He laughs to himself. “…just, y’know. Some of us can’t hold our liquor too well even after so much as a glass. It was real stout, real rich red wine, too, so you can probably imagine–”  
“Oh, definitely.”  
“There was a lot of food involved, too. I mean, _a lot of food_!” His voice turned high and squeaky on that last part. “–all kinds of pasta and zucchini and vegetables and just–oh man.”  
He then lets out a groan, one of relief. “I just had to unbutton my pants. There’s something I don’t do often.” He laughs to himself again and I giggle with him.  
“I wish I could hold you around your waist right now,” I whisper to him.  
“Well, I’ve got my hand on my belly right now so that’s–a start?” His voice is soft and breathy, almost husky, like he is in fact both exhausted and excited to hear my voice. “It’s been a long summer. At least, here. I dunno ‘bout there in… the Emerald City. But here upstate…”  
“Hot?”  
“Awful. The other day, I was on my back porch looking out to the lake, just having a moment where I wanted to sit and do nothing for a little while. Ginny, I was sitting out there in these little cut-off denim shorts that I have–I mean, these fucking things are short, I’ll have to put ‘em on for you when we see each other again, you’ll love ‘em ‘cause they show off… almost all of my thighs and they’re a little snug to top it all off–sittin’ out there in those shorts with no shirt on, I had my hair up in a ponytail on top of my head so it was off of my neck. I leaned back in the chair so I could stretch my legs and let my otherwise sweaty skin breathe.”  
He pauses for a second. “I swear to God, I could actually hear the sun and the waters of the lake evaporating, it was so hot and humid. I’m like, ‘Jesus Christ, I thought it was hot in Seattle when we were there just a couple of months ago!’ I almost didn’t wanna move ‘cause I was afraid I’d pass out.”  
He clears his throat again.  
“So… uh… do you mind at all…” His voice is breathy and husky again. “…sharing what you’ve got for me? Or do you wanna keep it a secret until we see each other again?”  
“I wanna keep it a secret,” I whisper back to him, leaning my back against the wall so I can look right into the rest of the kitchen to make sure Ben doesn’t walk in here. “I wanna surprise you.”  
“Alright, I like where this is going. I like you, Ginny.”  
“I also wanna ask you… when are you guys leaving for Europe?”  
“You know, I was hoping you’d ask me that because–let’s see–today’s Saturday?”  
“Yeah.”  
“We’re leaving… not this upcoming Friday, but the next one–the fifth. We’re starting off this stint of the tour with Metallica over in Wales on the tenth.”  
“Oh wow.”  
“Yeah, so if you don’t have a plane ticket, you’s better get it, my darlin’.”  
I giggle at him again. “Okay. Well, I’ve been saving money all summer long so I’m thinking… Monday? After work, I’ll swing on down to Sea-Tac Airport and get myself a ticket.”  
“The city’s… Cardiff, I think it’s called? You can ask the–the–the, uh, person down there.”  
“Of course, of course.” I laugh at him.  
“We’re gonna be in the British Isles for the first couple of weeks and then we’re gonna be heading on up to Sweden, I believe. We’ll take you on a tour of Europe with us.”  
“Okay, well–I’ll see you then, baby boy,” I whisper into the mouthpiece.  
“Call me before you leave, though. So we can meet up with you there in the airport.”  
“Will do. You sleep tight for me and take care of that sweet little tummy of yours, alright?”  
“I always do. And you have a lovely night yourself, honey pie.”  
“Good night, Joey–” We hang up at the same time and that’s when Ben enters the room, disheveled and groggy. I gasp at the sight of him and clutch my chest. He rubs his eye with the base of his palm.  
“Who was that?” he groans out as he pads over to the fridge for something.  
“Oh, just a–work friend. They’re going… on a trip, and they invited me to come with.”  
“Where they goin’.” He reaches into the fridge for his bottle of vodka.  
“The–coast.” That’s the first thing that came to mind.  
“Okay… how long?”  
“A week.”  
“A week?”  
“Yeah.”  
“No way you’re leaving for a week,” he scoffs, unscrewing the cap. “No fucking way.”  
“Ben, they want me to come with,” I insist.  
“You’re not goin’ to the coast for a week. Not by yourself.”  
“Ben, do you hear yourself right now?” I demand from him.  
“Yeah, but I don’t care. You’re not leaving!”  
I swallow as he gulps down a rather big swig of pure vodka, which makes my esophagus retract. He then reaches for my arm to plant his lips onto mine. His skin tastes sour and gross, so not like the soft sweetness I went to school with and married.  
“I don’t care,” he growls at me, tipping the bottle back into his mouth. I wince at the sight of it. To think Joey had a drink of red wine with his dinner, but at least he filled his stomach and nourished his body with pasta and vegetables. I want to get away from this poison, this prison, this joke of a life I had gotten myself into. And that ticket to Wales is my ticket out of it all.


	14. the ticket, the terrible food, and the seaside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *YYZ by Rush plays in the background*

The bitter taste of vodka lines my lips even after rinsing out my mouth on the kitchen faucet and drinking down two large glassfuls of water. It’s a horrible taste. It lingers not just on my mouth but all around my nose.  
And even if he didn’t kiss me, I don’t really want to go back into the bedroom to spend another second with him. I can’t afford to spend another minute with him. The sweet, friendly punk rocker I met and fell in love with in high school is now a polluted, bloated, sad excuse of a person who’s practically sprinting onward to death by liver failure. I have every right to leave now.  
But what about Lily? What can I do about her? And I don’t want to drop that onto Joey’s shoulders, either. He’s got enough to worry about at the moment; that’s the last thing he needs.  
I pick up my purse from the hook next to the front door and set it down on the floor beneath one arm of the couch. I lay down with my head right above it. It’s Saturday night but I’m going to sneak out of this damn house if I have to come the morning. As for Lily, I’ll think of something. I can take her to my dad’s house if I have to. Or better yet, since I’ll be flying out to Wales in a couple of weeks time with the boys, I’ll ask my mom if she can stay with her while I start this new chapter with Joey and the tour life and New York. It’s going to be a hard pill for me to swallow, but I don’t want to leave her here with… him. I’ve been wanting to leave this area with my daughter anyway.  
It’s the perfect plan: I’ll get on it in the morning.  
I fall asleep in a few moments time but it feels as though I only just did because I wake up at some point in the early morning hours at the sound of Lily crying. But I need to get that plane ticket, though. But she’s crying, absolutely sobbing: I can’t ignore that.  
I get up and head down the hall to comfort her.  
I sit at the edge of the bed while holding her in my arms. I rock her a bit. It’s all I can do for the moment before I tend to myself and buy that ticket to Wales.  
I run my hand down the smooth black hair on the back of her head. There’s a voice in the back of my mind that’s telling me this is a terrible idea and I should just forget the whole ordeal and put my money where my mouth is. But as I run the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip, I’m reminded of why I’m doing this.  
I don’t want to let down my teenage self anymore. I was born for the rock n’ roll life. I knew it in the Seventies when I began dancing and I know it now.  
Once I have Lily calmed down, I lay back down into her bed. I stroke the crown of her head before planting a kiss onto her forehead.  
”I’ll be back,” I promise her, tucking her into bed. “I’ve gotta do something important and then I’ll come back with breakfast. Okay?”  
She sniffles and nods her head, and then I kiss her again before standing to my feet. I head on out of her bedroom, leaving her door slightly ajar before returning to the living room for my purse. I drive on down to Sea-Tac Airport right as the sun is rising up on the other side of the valley and washing everything down in that rich golden yellow light. Using the money I had pinched from all my paychecks, I buy myself a ticket to beautiful Cardiff, Wales, for not this upcoming Friday, but the next one, and I take the time to fill out the paperwork for my passport. The flight leaves at four-thirty in the morning and it’s a twelve and a half hour flight.  
Honestly, that day cannot get here any sooner.

****************************

I figure that since the plane leaves at five o’clock in the morning, I need not risk bringing attention to myself at that hour. Ben also refused for me to leave tomorrow ad infinitum for the past week or so, but I am in fact about to once he falls asleep or even when his back is so much as turned. I have my dress and those black clothes I wore to their shows already packed in the trunk of my car, snuck in on the early mornings I went to work and he was still sound asleep. Lucky for me, I also got my passport just the other day; and I’ll buy more clothes in Europe if I have to.  
Before I started making dinner, I notice he isn’t drinking so much. Within time, I figure out what he’s trying to do, trying to stop me from leaving.  
But I can sense his fear. He’s terrified: he knows he’s on a spiral and I’m at my wits’ end. I can feel it in my bones as I’m stirring a pot of linguine noodles: it’s a sign of what’s to come for me and him.  
Granted, he hardly picks at the pasta but I feel the tension mounting in the air between us. At one point, he eyes me from the side as if watching my every move. I have the plane ticket in my purse, and my purse hanging on the hook next to the front door.  
Just have to wait for the right moment.  
I finish my pasta, every last bite of it, and he lets out a sound that resembles to something of an angry bird before climbing to his feet and trudging out of there. There’s silence, and then I hear music playing in the next room. His back is turned. Now is my chance.  
I wash off my plate and stick it in the drainer quick.  
He must be in the living room, which means I’m going to have to sneak to the front door.  
And I do.  
I take a peek around the corner to find his back is literally turned to the doorway of the living room. I duck across the doorway to snatch my purse off the hook. Lucky for me, he turns up the music so he doesn’t hear the front door. At least I hope he doesn’t.  
I hop into the car and start it up. I flash a glimpse out of the rear view mirror at the street behind me and return my attention to the house, the house that I am finally leaving behind. Not a sign of him trying to stop me.  
I back out and take the other way down the street to meet up with the road taking me down to the harbor, but I take a wrong turn just as the sun is setting. I don’t want to risk leaving my car in the parking lot of the harbor for Ben to find and since it’s the day before, I’m taking the scenic route, on the back road to the Olympic Peninsula and all the way down to Tacoma, and doubling back to Sea-Tac Airport. I’ll have to spend the night there in the airport if I have to.  
And I do: I walk up to the terminal and take my seat there on the uncomfortable seat before the entrance. I timed it down to utmost perfection: it was seven o’clock when I left the house and it’s shortly after eight now. Nothing better than to relax for a little while until the plane arrives. I check out the cafe and then the little ice cream parlor down the hall. I also remember to give Joey a call on one of the payphones near the terminal.  
It rings once, twice.  
”Hello?”  
”Hey, Joey.” I can’t resist the smile crossing my face.  
”Oh, hi, Ginny! So are you ready?”  
”I was born ready.”  
”Ohhhhh, man, you have no idea how much I love that–okay, I’ll hit up Scott and we’ll hang out for however long we’ll wait for outside of the gate. Alright, baby doll–let’s get on it! I’ll see ya soon.”  
Without another word, we hang up at the same time and I check out the little book store nearby.  
I take a nap at about a quarter to midnight and wake up at three-thirty, right as more people are congregating on the seats around me. Once the plane pulls up to the gate outside, I put my ticket through the front desk there and make my way down the corridor to the entrance of the plane.  
I take my seat, the place I’ll be at for almost thirteen hours. But I don’t mind, especially I’ll be napping most of the ride there.  
Indeed, I wake up sometime before the quick stopover in New York City to check through customs, where it’s already the middle of the morning. I have a feeling I’ll run into them at some point, but they must’ve gotten on another flight. I ask for some pancakes for breakfast, but they lack any flavor whatsoever. A gentleman across the aisle from me is having eggs and bacon, but they look like fake plastic food I used to find in Lily’s old play place. Terrible!  
I stare out the window at the darkening Atlantic Ocean underneath us: so vast, and empty, and cavernous underneath the occasional fluffy white cloud. At some point, as we’re looming in closer to the British Isles, and the sun is setting behind us, I notice a rather large bank of clouds forming over the ocean. I’ll actually get to experience rain on my first day in Europe.  
Indeed, we land in Cardiff at about eight o’clock at night. I’m careful to make my way through the aisle of the plane but I’m also eager to get off.  
I stride down the corridor to the entrance of the terminal. I recognize Frankie’s laugh at the very end.  
I break out into a run and I reach the end to find the five of them awaiting me right there, right at the entrance. Joey’s face lights up when he sees me.  
“There she is!” he declares, and the four of them let out cheers of joy. I throw my arms around him and he does the same for me. The side of his neck smells soft and peppery; his body is warm, delicate, and soft, exactly how I remember him. I feel his lips on the side of my neck.  
“I’m so fucking glad you made it,” he whispers into my ear.  
“I am, too,” I whisper back to him. I let go of him to give Scott, Danny, Frankie, and Charlie all hugs.  
“Well? What’re we waiting for?” I ask them as Charlie keeps his arm around. “Let’s get going!”  
“That’s our girl,” Danny remarks as he picks up his travel bag and hoists it over his shoulder. The six of us venture through customs first and then pick up the rest of our luggage before heading on out into the crisp black night to await our ride over to the hotel.  
I stand in between Scott and Joey as we await there at the curb. To our right a vast wall of a whirring noise catches my ear. I take a glimpse over to the right to make out the sight of wharf lights off in the distance. I forgot this side of Wales is facing an inlet of water. Joey puts his arm around me.  
“So how do you feel right now?” he asks me over the wall of white noise before us. I keep gazing out to the darkness, to the black waters of the inlet to the right of us, for another moment before turning to the dark shadow covering part of his face, and the other half accentuated by golden light from the street.  
“I couldn’t ask for anything else, really,” I confess to him, putting my arm around his lower back and setting a hand on his hip.


	15. the comic books, the socks, and the summer rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Mild smut warning*_

_September, 1986. Cardiff, Wales_.

“Watch your step, Ginny,” Scott advises me in a loud enough voice for me to hear over the roar of the tides. We’ve arrived at the dim lit hotel overlooking the inlet, and what better timing given I’m starting to feel hungry. I gaze up at the blackened sky and I wonder if it’ll rain any time soon.  
We enter the hotel lobby to check in and I spot a large box sitting on the table on the left side of the room. On the top is a piece of paper reading “For Anthrax, courtesy of James and Lars!” I take a glimpse underneath it to find that it’s their comic books.  
“You guys brought your comics with you?” I wonder aloud.  
“Well, of course,” Charlie teases me, taking a seat on the couch there and reaching for the box.  
“James and Lars from Metallica brought them with ‘em,” Frankie points out, joining Charlie. “Lars was like ‘you guys ahen’t gonna read those poorly-lit Denish ones, no seh!’“ The latter part of that he said in an odd accent.  
I laugh out loud and then fan myself. The air in here is still and warm, quite the contrast compared to outside.  
“Are you hot?” Danny asks me as Scott checks in at the front desk.  
“A little bit, yeah.”  
“Danny’s got ya covered,” Joey points out as Danny reaches into his pocket for a little black hair tie.  
“Aw, thank you.” I take the tie and push my hair back from my neck in a loose enough ponytail.  
“Alright, youses,” Scott starts, turning his attention to all of us. He has a trio of cards in hand. “We’ve been checked in. All of our rooms are down the hall here, right next door to each other–” He gestures right behind Joey and me to the hallway stretching back into the rest of the building. He hands a room key to Danny.  
“–first door–so let’s get settled in for the moment–” He hands another one to Frankie. “–the one in the middle–I’m gonna talk to Jonny about something real quick–” And another to Joey. “–last one–and then we’ll go have dinner with Metallica. Gentlemen–” He turns to me with a grin on his face as he tucks the last one into his back pocket. “–lady.”  
“Gladly,” I reply to him, feeling the warmth cross my face. Scott then ducks in between me and Joey and the table before us to the front door. Charlie and Frankie lean back on the couch with comics in hand, while Danny picks up his suitcase and walks towards the hall.  
“Come on, Ginny,” Joey coaxes me back in there. I follow him into this narrow, warm lit corridor, which has just these three rooms. Danny stops at the first one and unlocks the door just fine; Joey keeps walking to the one at the very end and slides the key through the slot, which unlocks the door.  
It’s a modest room with a pair of comfortable looking queen sized beds with heavy, white quilts lined with white and light gray lace, and a tiny lamp right in between the headboards; there’s a dresser to the right of me, and next to that is a low table and a rickety wooden chair. I shut the door behind me right as Joey strips off his leather jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. He then takes off his shirt.  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I stop him right as he has the shirt off of his head: curly tendrils of hair spread over part of his face.  
“What?” he asks, nonplussed.  
“What’re you doing?”  
“I thought we were gonna share outfits to each other.”  
“Oh, right! Right, right, right! Me, the dress, and you, those shorts. I’ll change in the bathroom, ‘cause–you know.”  
“You want it to be a surprise,” he follows, pushing his hair back from his face to wink at me.  
I open my suitcase to take out the paper bag with the dress inside. I run into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I’m quick to take off my clothes and put on the dress. It fit me just like on that first day: maybe a bit more snug given I was sweating a bit that day and it’s cooler here. I smooth out the skirt and lower the neckline as far as it’ll go down my chest.  
I open the door and step back out to the rest of the room, to find Joey with no shirt and those tight, denim short-shorts hugging his thighs and his hips. So tight I think if he’d breathe a little too hard, the button would come flying right off. He gives his ringlets a toss back from his bare shoulder and presses his hands to his hips.  
“So?” he asks me.  
“I like the socks,” I giggle at him. He glances down at his black socks still on his feet.  
“Oh, shit!” he declares, ducking down to peel them off and I burst out laughing. As he’s stooping down, I notice the band of his shorts hugging his waist just enough to make him appear a little rounder than normal.  
“Those shorts are in fact a little snug,” I remark.  
“Did I not say?” he teases me, tossing his socks off to the side and standing back upright.  
“You did.” I fold my arms over the waist of my dress to bring more attention to my chest.  
“It’ll help once I eat something, too.” He shows me the tip of his tongue.  
“God damn,” he mutters, eyeing me.  
“What do you think?” I ask him, releasing my arms and showing off the dress to him.  
“Gorgeous as holy hell. Just–wow.” He starts breathing harder. “I think–I think I wanna touch you.”  
I gesture for him to come on closer and he lunges towards me so he’s right in front of me. I put my arms around his slender waist as I gazed right into those deep brown pools, those black diamonds gazing back at me.  
“May I have this dance?” he asks me in that soft, husky voice again.”  
“But there’s no music,” I point out.  
“I know.” I feel his hand on my butt. I gyrate my hips a bit to guide him and he follows me.  
“ _Come over here_ ,” he sings to me in a whisper, “ _all you got is this moment_.”  
I gasp as I twirl him and bring him back to me.  
“INXS!” I whisper and he nods at me with that sweet little smile making its way at me.  
“ _The twenty-first century’s yesterday… you can care all you want. Everybody does, yeah, that’s okay–_ ” He twirls me hard, so hard that the hair tie Danny gave me flies right out of my hair. He yanks me back into his chest. “ _So slide over here–_ ” He closes his eyes as he brings his face closer to mine.  
“ _–and give me a moment_ ,” he whispers into my ear. “ _Your moves are so raw. I’ve gotta let you know–you’re one of my kind._ ”  
Joey then falls onto his back on the bed with his legs open and his shorts undone to show off even more skin. His black curls fan out from underneath his head and partially onto his shoulders.  
“C’mere,” he gestures at himself. “C’mere and make love to me.”  
I crawl over the foot of the bed and collapse right next to him. I throw my arms around his waist and plant my lips right on his chest, right underneath his dark nipples. His skin is smooth and delicate like silk.  
I run my fingers down his belly, down that little line of fine hair, to the button on his shorts and I undo them. I’m about to do it. I’m about to give him what he and I both came for. He lifts his body up a bit to put his hands on either side of my face for a firm kiss on my lips. I can feel it between us.  
I’m leaving that old life behind. I just have Joey now.  
A loud pattering noise overhead catches my ear. It’s raining. It’s pouring summer rain outside for the both of us.  
I run my fingers through his black hair and down his neck and shoulders.  
“Oh, Joey–” I whisper in between kisses.  
“Ginny–” he whispers back to me.  
“Please–” I beg him. I feel him unzipping my dress.  
“I am–”  
“Joey–”  
A knock on the door interrupts my train of thought.  
“Ginny? Joey?” It’s Danny.  
“Yes!” I call out.  
“You guys ready? We’re going to dinner!”  
“Give us a minute!” I return to Joey, right as he closes his eyes and bows his head.  
“Later,” I promise him. “Later. When your tummy’s all nice and full and I’m wanting to give you so many kisses.”


	16. the second lie, the tummy ache, and the kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“You don't have to be beautiful  
>  to turn me on.  
> I just need your body, baby,  
> from dusk 'til dawn.  
> You don't need experience  
> ti turn me out.  
> You just leave it all up to me:  
> I'm gonna show you what it's all about.”_  
> -“Kiss”, Prince

Joey had changed into a black button down shirt and back into his tight jeans for our dinner with Metallica in the pub next door, while I kept my dress on. I knew it would difficult for the both of us given we had had our hands all over each other—I even undid his shorts for him! I can’t erase the image out of my mind, either: his browned skin right there right before me, all underneath my fingertips and my lips; his face looming right there before mine, and the feel of his hands in my face, and then the taste of his lips upon mine. I had danced with the sour, bitter taste of death and escaped in favor of those smooth delicate lips and his boyish comfort.

Indeed, there is nothing more than I want at the moment than for Joey to satiate himself here in this little pub next door to the hotel with all the things that we’re about to eat up.

Frankie and Charlie make hourglass shapes with their hands at me as we walk into the warm pub, filled with the comforting aroma of fresh baked bread and soup. Joey puts his arm around me as we congregate there at the entrance of the main dining room.

“Oh, there they are,” Scott gestures to the other side of the room at the long table up against the wall and the four men seated there. He then turns to me with a twinkle in his eye. “Let’s go meet our pals, Metallica! I like you with your hair down, too.” He flashes me a wink before we head on over.

The four of them apparently had long showed up before us here in Wales, and willing to help us out with anything we needed.

James is this tall, leonine boy with long wavy blonde hair well past his shoulders and the first sprouts of a mustache on his upper lip: I notice he has a bandage around his left forearm. Kirk’s little baby face gives me something of an odd feeling like I can trust him with my life about something, but he has this odd twinkle in his eye that makes me wonder if that’s a good idea at all. Cliff looms in the far corner of the room next to the head of the table, with his thousand yard stare off into space, and yet when he smiles, his whole face does just that in return. And then there’s Lars, the resident European making his pilgrimage back home for a while and his long feathery light brown hair and big friendly smile, so big for such a small guy, no less.

Scott takes a seat at the head of the table, right beneath the small window looking out to the street, and to the left of me. Meanwhile Joey is nestled up next to me as we’re all served fresh brewed stout and strong, hearty coffee. To top it off, the whole room smells warm with shepherds’ bread and much to my interest, curry from tikka masala.

“So this is Ginny who Joey and I were talking about,” I overhear Scott tell Cliff; “the dancer who was gonna do Zeppelin and Hutchence a few years back but never was able to.”

“Oh, man, that would’ve been amazing,” Cliff remarks to me as he picks up his glass of stout for a swig.”

“I was gonna be the next Audrey Hepburn on top of everything else,” I explain to him.

“Just wanted to be a star,” Scott adds.

“Bonzo died and things just didn’t come to fruition with INXS, either. Everything fell apart, needless to say.”

“And then you found him.” Cliff gestures to Joey right next to me.

“And then I found him, yes.” It’s sort of the truth, given I actually found Frankie first and then Joey came afterward. Scott then leans closer to Cliff’s ear to whisper something to him, and so I return to Joey as he’s rubbing his belly. He’s slouched down in his chair so as to hide his hand but nothing to take attention away from his action.

“Are you okay?” I gently ask him over Lars and Charlie’s chatter.

“It’s my stomach. I’m so hungry that it’s actually aching me.” He keeps a hand rested upon his flat belly, and I can see he’s struggling to get comfortable there in the spindly chair. I reach under the table so as to put my hand on his thigh, given it’s really all I can do at the moment.

But within time, the food arrives and Joey and I are quick to eat some of the light and fluffy shepherds’ bread straight out of the oven accompanied with some butter.

I know he’s starting to feel better by the time the masala arrives, which he totally scarfs up as though it’s his last meal. I think back to when he and I were in the hotel room in West Seattle and he joked about having pancakes and muffins. Maybe it wasn’t a joke.

“Sometimes I wonder just how much you’ll eat,” I confess to him.

“I eat ‘til I’m done,” he retorts, bringing his forkful of chicken masala to his mouth.

“Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if you’ve got a use for all that—that junk in your trunk.”

“No worries, Ginny,” he promises to me. “Really, I’ll burn it off come the show and a round of hockey.”

He strokes my thigh with his left hand, right there under the table so it’s out of everyone’s sight. I rest my right hand on top of his, and he turns his hand over so our fingers can interlock with each other. We hold hands all the way through dinner, and he never lets go of me.

He never lets go of his grip even when he has eaten more than his share and he leans back in his chair to show me his shirt resting over his very full, but still flat tummy like an untucked bedsheet.

“Jesus, poke a fork in me,” he says to me.

“You sure are quite a lot,” I point out.

“Yeah, I thought I was the big eater,” Cliff remarks with a hearty chuckle and a final swig down of his stout. Joey picks up his napkin, and presses it to his lips, and closes his eyes.

“Would you guys excuse me for a moment?” he asks us, letting go of my thigh and standing to his feet.

“Yeah, of course,” Scott assures him, holding his glass of stout before his face. Joey almost loses his balance as he climbs out of there: I watch him practically stumble out of the pub outside.

“I’m gonna go see if he’s okay,” I tell Scott, and he nods and flashes me a thumbs-up. I follow Joey outside to the pouring rain, and I find he’s posted up underneath the awning near the corner of the building. Careful not to step out to the rain by accident, I walk over to him as he’s unfastening the bottom buttons of his shirt.

“Are you alright?” I ask him over the pattering of the rain on the pavement next to us.

“Oh, yeah. I got too hot.”

“Oh I see. All that warm curry and chicken and fresh bread.”

“All of us sittin’ there shoulder to shoulder wasn’t really helping matters, either.” He undoes the buttons up by his collar bones so he’s leaning with his back against the brick wall with his shirt opened. I gaze up at him through as the rain streams down all around us. Stray locks of his inky black hair sprawl over his collar bones and onto his chest. He parts his lips a bit and he lifts a hand to run his fingers over his bare belly.

“Let me ask you this, my darling Ginny,” he starts, turning his attention to me, “what’s your pleasure?”

“My pleasure—“ I run my tongue along the edges of my top teeth at the sight of him. I linger closer to him but I don’t touch him. Not yet.

“You, of course,” I answer to him in a low enough voice for him to hear me over the rain. “What you feel inside of you at the moment. How you feel inside...” I let my fingers creep up onto his chest, right underneath the top button. Even with the cool Welsh rain around us, his whole body radiates with warmth: he’s full and relaxed, even here in the rain, right where I want him. “—let me ask you, Joey...” I loom right before his face. “...do you feel me right now?”

“I do,” he says, his voice lowering into a delicate whisper.

“Do you feel anything about me that you might regret in the morning?”

“No,” he breathes into my face.

“Say it like you mean it, baby boy.”

“No—“ He closes his eyes and parts his lips just enough for me to want to kiss him. I’m leaning right up against his chest so his stomach can hang out and relax.

“Now let me ask again—do you feel me?”

“Yes, but do you feel me?” he asks me. I bring my face even closer to his, so close that I’m right there before his lips, but I don’t kiss him.

“Do you feel me?” he asks me again.

“I do,” I whisper right into his face, “and I want every inch of it under my tongue.”

And without another moment’s hesitation, I lay my lips onto his, as warm and lush as ever. I slide my fingers down his chest, down those fine nappy sprigs of dark hair. I can feel him relaxing underneath my touch. Maybe it’s just from the rain all around us, or maybe it’s the feel of him right underneath me, but a rush of a chill shoots up my back.

I’m a free woman now, away from the shambles of my old life.

It’s an exhilarating feeling I can’t quite describe, but I open my lips more so as to slip my tongue right into his mouth. He puts his arms around me to bring me closer to his lovely body; I lay my hands on both of his shoulders. I feel his hands fondling around my back for the zipper of my dress.

“Not here, big boy,” I whisper to him in between kisses.

“What say you and I get a room?” he suggests in a low husky voice.

“Good idea.” I push some of his hair back from his chest just to feel his smooth sun-kissed skin a bit more.

“There they are—“ I hear Charlie’s voice to the left of us: it’s followed by Frankie laughing out loud and Danny cheering at I would think Joey.

“Alright, kids, playtime’s over,” Lars teases us, “let’s get on back before this rain gets any harder.”


	17. the gold, the silver, and the diamond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*mild-ish smut warning*_

_September, 1986. London, England_.

It's been two whole weeks since we had arrived here in the British Isles and I have been in heaven. Between having the opportunity to follow Anthrax and Metallica around the islands and heading back to the hotel room to have nights alone with Joey, and even finding myself dancing and swaying my hips to their music, I have no doubt that this is what my teenage self wanted. Sure, we're all travelling on a budget—Anthrax and their little black van, and Metallica and their bus—but there is nothing more than I can ask for at the moment.  
If only I could travel back to tell seventeen year old me that this is in fact the life she had dreamed of when she fine tuned her dancing, I never would have had the home life I had had in the first place.  
This was their last date in Great Britain: on one hand, I'm glad I didn't bring a camera with me because I have my worries, especially with some of the clothes I had been buying for myself all the way through the tour. But on other hand, I wish I did because northern England and Ireland undoubtedly feel like home to me in all of their spectacular beauty, especially since I had Joey by my side whenever we went out to eat, or walked around the neighborhoods, or even drove through all of the little neatly-woven towns and villages to the next stop. He even showed me how to skate about a hockey rink while we were in Manchester: the first time I lost my balance I gripped onto his chest and we hung still long enough to stare into each other's eyes. At one point, I felt like dancing with him in the streets of Dublin, even as the rain fell down upon us in droves.  
The opportunity finally came yesterday when we arrived here in London: the rain finally stopped after a full non-stop week over the Isles, and the gray sky opened so as to let the afternoon sun through one last time before giving way to the nightfall. I took Joey by the hand and led him into the sunshine from under the awning we walked under: it was a couple of hours after lunch so he still felt warm to the touch. I held him close to me as we danced together in the golden film of sunlight shining over us.  
Granted, we had to stop because of oncoming traffic but he knew what I wanted. I even told him we should dance together at some point while performing. Although we never found the right opportunity because of the intense energy of the crowds and the five of them worrying about one of the more unruly audience members coming at me, thus I never found the opportunity to do so on my own whim, either. But Charlie vowed to guide me onstage once the moment proved right: it would come soon enough. I was positive of it.  
On this night, following the show, Joey had led me back to our room in the hotel behind the concert hall. His hair is a disheveled mess from performing so hard and with such prowess, and his skin shines from sweat.  
"You don't wanna dance with a sweaty boy," he informs me as we enter our room and he closes the door behind him. He runs his fingers through his hair to push it off of the side of his neck and his shoulder, and stoops down to take off his Chucks and his socks. He then stands upright to show me a big beaming smile.  
"Clean up, sweaty boy," I advise him. And with a lick of his lips and without another word, he peels off his shirt to show off his slender glistening body to me.  
"My goodness!" I remark.  
"Yeah, I was working hard tonight," he replies, his grin never wavering for a split second. He then turns to the bathroom door. "I'll be right out."  
"Joey—" I stop him, and he raises his eyebrows at me.  
"Leave the door open."  
He squints his eyes at me.  
"Ahhhh, I see how you are," he teases me, and I put my arms behind my back, and cock my hips to the side, and knit my knees together. "Be careful, baby doll—I may not look like much, but this is a dangerous game you're dropping your puck into."  
"You've got that deep, dark, smoldering side to you," I note, eyeing his body from his neck all the way down to his bare feet. "I can feel it."  
"I'll be right out," he repeats with a wink at me. He pads into the bathroom and leaves the door propped ajar enough for me to have a peek inside whenever I want. I hum to myself as I kneel before his overnight bag. I have an idea, seeing as he mentioned playing a game.  
Careful not to bring attention to myself, I open the zipper at a slow enough pace so it makes no noise. But I also don't think he can hear me as I hear him drop his pants onto the bathroom floor. I keep humming as I delve through his clothes and all the way to the very bottom.  
"I can't hardly get that song out of my head!" I declare to him.  
"Which one is that?" he calls out, his voice hollow from the walls of the bathroom.  
"The one that goes 'it's a madhouse!'"  
"Oh, that one! Oh, yeah, it gets stuck in my head all the time, too."  
I take out his hockey jersey from the bottom of the bag, this narrow white jersey lined with fiery red and with his last name on the back. The head of the shower whirs to life and that's my cue. I close the bag and double back to the bed.  
As I take off my shirt and my bra and put on the jersey, I just keep thinking of his naked body, all drenched in that warm water and his scrubbing himself down with the soft soap he likes to use. I hear some of the water splattering on the sides of the shower as I take off my shoes and the nice pants I bought in the little shop in Dublin. I'm wearing nothing but my panties and his jersey, which is snug on me.  
I give my hair a gentle toss as he shuts off the water and lets out a soft sigh. I have the butterflies dancing inside of my stomach, but I have no doubt this will in fact surprise him.  
I wait a moment before I make my way over to the bathroom door to find the condensation on the mirror in there.  
I push the door to find him standing there with a towel around his waist and another covering his head: the fine hair on his chest and on his belly is starting to stand up from being dried off. He ruffles the one on his head and then drops it down onto his shoulders. He gasps when he sees me, and then his mouth drops open.  
"What do you think?" I ask him.  
"Is there no look you can't pull off?" he cracks as he holds the towel to his shoulders. I slink into the bathroom to set my arms upon his shoulders, and press my lips onto his.  
"Mmm, you smell good," I whisper to him.  
"I try my best," he assures me with a shrug of the shoulders. "You know, I'm not wearing anything under this towel here—" He pauses to purse his lips together. His eyes are big, big like a deer in the headlights. He's dripping wet from his bangs and the hair on the sides of his head. I can sense it.  
"You wanna—?" I ask him in a soft voice. He shows me his tongue and then takes a brief glance down.  
"What would you like?"  
"Touch me," he whispers to me.  
"My hand or my mouth?"  
"Your hand," he replies, nibbling on his bottom lip. I never take my eyes off of his as I reach down with one hand to take off his towel. I can feel his warm skin against my fingertips and the palm of my hand: even against his rich brown irises, I make out his pupils dilating. He parts his lips as I stroke with the softest touch: the pad of my thumb is to the stuttered, almost pained sounding breath escaping his lips. He closes his eyes at one point.  
I take a look down to find his hand making way onto my thigh. His fingers crawl underneath the hockey jersey, underneath the band of my panties, and onto my bare skin.  
He's touching me. He's touching me as I'm touching him.  
"Dance with me, baby boy," I whisper into his ear: I feel my panties drop down to the floor around my feet.  
"Only if you dance with me, honey pie," he whispers back, letting the towel around his waist drop down onto the floor. He backs up against the wall so we're both standing up.  
This feels wrong in a way: I'm about to have sex with another man who isn't Ben. But I made my choice: if I'm to come closer to Joey, I have to take things to the next level.  
I bend my knees and move back and forth like I'm doing a grind dance in the other direction. He breathes harder with each movement. I know I'm doing it right because I feel my heart hammering inside of my chest, even with the gentle movements. His hands press against the wall on either side of him.  
I press my hands onto the wall on either side of his head.  
At some point, we have to reach the top, to cross the threshold and reach the summit of the mountain. It could be the point in which I can't hardly take it anymore, or the point in which Joey snaps his eyes shut and lets out a gentle groan.  
I give him a soft moan in return right as I stop right in place.  
"Good boy," I whisper into his face and plant a kiss on his dark lips.  
There's a knock on the door which catches my attention.  
"I'll get that," I promise, setting a finger on his lips. I take a couple of steps back to pick up my panties and slip them back on over my legs, and then I head out of the bathroom to answer the door.  
I open it part of the way to find Lars standing there with a white bucket in his hand and a white towel around the back of his neck.  
"Oh, hi, Lars! What's up?"  
"I was just wondering if you guys have any ice," he replies, running his fingers through the matted sweaty locks of hair on the side of his head. "—I hope I am not interrupting anything." He smells funny and his pupils are dilated.  
"Can't say we do," I confess to him with a shrug. "And no, you're not interrupting anything."  
"Okay. Well, you know if either you or Joey need anything, James and I are right across the hall here."  
"Of course, of course!"  
"Onward," he announces to me, holding out his free hand for me to give him a high-five.  
"Where to?"  
"Norway and Sweden, then Denmark. My home and the diamond of the world, if you ask me. You thought the British Isles were beautiful."  
"Scandinavia is even better?"  
"Underappreciated and untouched, much like yourself." He flashes me a wink and a mischievous grin. "Anyways, you two have a good night and don't stay up too late."  
"We won't, I promise." I show him a grin in return. "You have a good night, too." He turns away and I shut the door. I turn around to find Joey padding out of the shower with the towel back around his waist.  
"That was Lars looking for some ice."  
"Probably for an ice bath—I know after our little encounter in there I'd want one myself." He winks at me. "That was hot." He hesitates for a second, eyeing me and my bare legs underneath his hockey jersey.  
"You want some ice cream?" he suggests.  
"I would _love_ some ice cream!"  
"I'll see if I can get a hold of room service..."


	18. the pen, the sword, and the danishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The pen is mightier than the sword."  
> (*very mild smut warning*)

_September, 1986. Stockholm, Sweden_.

When we landed in Copenhagen the other day, I was suffering from a little bit of jet lag. Somewhere around the halfway point, my head began pounding from all of the intensive traveling the past couple of weeks. Joey took notice of it and gestured for me to cuddle right next to him. We were right next to the window near the front of the plane, right in front of Scott and Danny. No one was across the aisle from us.  
I lifted the arm rest between us and then I unfastened the top buttons on his shirt to reveal a little bit more of his brown skin. He kept his arm around me to hold me close. I stroked his skin, all warm and silky like a cup of hot chocolate. I brought my face closer to the side of his neck to catch a whiff of his cologne and the soft soap he used in the shower the night before.  
The heater at the front of the plane blew onto our heads and was about to put me to sleep. His fingers crawled over my shoulder and my upper back: I could feel his chin and part of his tightly coiled black hair on the crown of my head.  
I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat and his steady breathing. And when I awoke right after the seat belt warning sign flashed on, and before landing in Denmark, I was met with his serene expression and part of his hair covering his face like a blanket.  
I kissed his lips with the softest touch, and then I kissed him on the side of the neck. I held onto the sides of his face to kiss him again a few more times, that is until he woke up and showed me that cute little crooked smile.  
He put his other arm around me to hold me even closer as he kissed me on the mouth even more. I ran my fingers through the black curls on the side of his head: we had to stay quiet because Scott and Danny were still asleep right behind me. Every soft little groan from the inside of his throat was a sign for me to come on closer to him. He smelled so good, it was starting to drive me crazy.  
”Should we have some privacy?” I asked him, letting go of his lips and looming right before his face.  
”We’re landing soon, though,” he whispered back to me.  
”I want you, though,” I begged him. “I want you so bad.”  
Joey nibbled on his bottom lip and glanced down at my chest for a moment. I stared at the bare sliver of skin on his chest. I thought of kissing him there and then following it up with a little nibble but he beat me to a touch on my chest. I stared into those deep brown eyes, full of that smoldering lusty fire underneath the little black curls dangling down from the front of his head. His dark lips were parted a bit.  
Like a dark shady vampire ready to pounce upon his prey.  
”God, you’re hot,” I whispered to him.  
”Right on the edge, baby doll,” he whispered back in a husky voice. His fingers caressed my chest, and that was when the pilot came on the intercom to tell us to buckle our seat belts given we were landing. I glanced down at his thighs. I could sense it, even right there.  
We stepped off the plane and headed into the airport there. One of the first things we saw was a little warm lit bakery. Joey picked out a raspberry danish on the shelf near the front door; he held it out to me as if offering it to me.  
”Here,” he says with his head bowed a bit to appear coy.  
”An authentic Danish danish!” Lars exclaims from the other side of the room.  
Soon thereafter, we left for Lund, right across the inlet from Copenhagen.  
I treated him to a raspberry right on his belly when we were in bed together that night after we arrived in the hotel.  
And then right after that, I unzipped his pants and fondled him again.  
And he fondled me, too.  
At some point, leaving on the outskirts of Oslo en route to Stockholm, when the rain came in again, and we were riding along the highway in the back of the van right next to Frankie and Charlie, I felt as though we were all thieves in the night. We were a bunch of Goth kids heading to a nightclub before we summoned out the bats from the bell tower. The fact we were in Scandinavia helped matters: the cold black sky outside of the window brought a shiver up my spine and made me think of ghosts and cemeteries. I had the desire to make love with Joey under this icy sky over a grave bed after we danced to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”.  
But then again, I loved it when Joey and I snuggled in bed in the hotel outside of Stockholm with our hands on each other.  
We left for Copenhagen once more about an hour ago and pulled over for something to eat and a bit of water. Metallica’s big black bus is parked down the block from the large luxurious service station. James and Kirk are congregated on the sidewalk in their parkas.  
Joey, Frankie, and I are heading over to them to see what’s up.  
”Lars has a little stomach bug right now,” James tells us.  
”Too much lutefisk?” Frankie jokes.  
”Nah, I think it’s nervousness,” Kirk corrects him with a shrug. “Here he comes.”  
Lars strides up from behind us with a cup of water in one hand.  
”Alright, let’s get moving,” he says to them in a haste and a quick wrap of his arm around me.  
”Copenhagen, it is,” I declare to him as I turn to James and Kirk.  
“We’re gonna go right ahead of you guys,” Kirk informs us as he lets go of me.  
“Be safe, boys,” I tell them, rubbing my eye: I’m still a little tired from flying. “We’ll see you there.”


	19. the silence, the wreck, and the last kiss for now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was so hard for me to write. Like, emotionally

Joey, Frankie, and I stride on back to the van parked underneath the pale yellow light on the side of the service station. I'm walking in between the both of them with our hands tucked into our jacket pockets.  
I loved Copenhagen the first time around; but now I'm about to experience it full on in a manner of hours.  
"Alright, who wants princess cakes!" Charlie declares, holding out a cardboard box filled with little round cakes covered in bright green fondant and chocolate sprinkles. "Somethin' to get us started on breakfast, at least until Jonny spots a good restaurant for us to eat at. These are nothing like the kind we have back home, either, at least according to the guy in there."  
I take one, as does Joey followed by Frankie. The fondant on top is fresh; on the inside is soft fluffy cream, some kind of tart berry jam, and a sponge cake on the bottom.  
"Alright, so we're about six hours outside of Copenhagen," Scott remarks from the back seat of the van, pulling the hood on his big heavy parka over his head with his free hand; he's holding a cake in his other hand. "I'm kinda glad we left bright and early, too, 'cause I can't imagine what the traffic must be like in the middle of the day."  
"And it's just best if we left early, too," Danny chimes in with his mouth full.  
"Right! And to top it off, I'm glad Ginny's with us, too, because I can't imagine it just being the five of us in this van for almost seven hours straight."  
"Just call me the mediator," I declare, and Joey puts his arm around me to hold me close to his puffy coat. It's interesting that Scott mentions traffic because I haven't heard a car pass us by on the road behind us in a few minutes. Indeed, I turn my head to find the highway behind us is dead silent. Not a single car one goes past us.  
There's a slight cool breeze that's blowing in from the north of us to accompany the rich violet sky overhead that's about to turn blue and then gray with the clouds. Another factor in my jet lag: I'm not acquainted with the exorbitant darkness up here, even at the end of September. Even though it's six in the morning, it's still black as night out here. I rub my eyes from exhaustion and from the darkness. It amazes me that there's not even a bird chirping or anything. It is chilly, but at least on a cold day there are a few birds flying around. At least that's how it is back in Seattle. But there's something else. Something else that I can't quite grasp on.  
"You alright, Ginny?" Frankie asks me. I turn to him with the odd feeling within me worsening: perhaps it can be from my having Lily which bestowed me with that "mother's intuition" but it's eating at me.  
"It's awful quiet."  
The five of them glance around the service station. Indeed, we're the only ones there for a pit stop. The fuel pump makes a loud _click!_ and Charlie rounds the back of the van to tend to it. That's the one other sound around us.  
"Yeah, it is," Danny adds from behind Scott.  
Joey peers around the area for himself. "Six o'clock in the morning and not another person or anything-"  
He's cut off by a soft crushing sound in the distance, like someone crushing an empty soda can on pavement. But as far as I can tell, neither of us is drinking soda. Frankie flashes me a wide-eyed look. Joey knits his eyebrows together and then turns his head to the left of us.  
Nothing there but the stretch of highway disappearing around the corner and into the darkness.  
"What the hell was that," Scott flatly asks us. Jonny strides towards the driver's side of the van right then.  
"Jon, d'you hear that?" Charlie asks him in a worried voice.  
"I did!" he declares, climbing into the driver's seat. We all follow suit into the van and round the sides of the pumps to the driveway. We return to the pitch-dark highway. The whole van is silent except for the wall of noise from the tires on the pavement.  
We ride along the darkness for a few miles with a pair of flashing lights catches my eye.  
"Hazard lights?" Jonny wonders aloud.  
"Oh my fucking God," Scott blurts out. I bring a hand to my mouth.  
"No!" Danny follows suit.  
"How-?" Frankie's voice trails off.  
"Whoa!" Jonny turns the wheel and saves the van from spinning out on the pavement. Black ice. We slow down just enough as the hazard lights enter our view: as we approach closer, I can tell they're off the side of the road and tipped over onto their side. I make out tire treads in the frozen earth on the shoulder. From the panning light of the headlights, I make out the shape of tires jutting out from the big black luminous rectangle against the darkness.  
It's Metallica's bus.  
"Oh my God," Joey breathes out from right next to me.  
"Oh my gracious God," Charlie echoes, "don't look, don't look, don't look..."  
"Pull over, Jon," Scott advises him.  
We surpass the bus to pass the lake of black ice and pull over to the side of the road. Frankie, Charlie, Joey, and I peer out the back window at the big black bus laying there off the side of the road on its side: the orange hazard lights at the front perforate the darkness. Jonny kills the engine and he and Scott climb out in unison; the latter leaves his door open so we have some light in here.  
There's someone coming for us, someone short and with long hair.  
"There's Lars," Frankie remarks. In the dim light, I make out his wide terrified eyes and the color having left his face as if he had just seen a ghost.  
"Everyone alright?" Jonny asks him.  
"I think so," he confesses, his voice shaking. He mutters something under his breath. I watch him run his fingers through the fine crown of brown hair on top of his head. Two more people follow suit from behind him.  
"James," Charlie points out to the tall one on the left, "and Kirk." He gestures to the curly-headed one on the right.  
"Where's Cliff?" Joey wonders aloud. We're met with silence, silence except for Scott asking the three of them a question.  
I hear James answer with "I kicked out one of the windows facing out so we could climb out. I didn't see him."  
Joey and I gape at each other: his brown eyes are big with horror. I chew on my bottom lip as we gaze on at the sight of them standing there behind the van. None of this is easy to look at, especially as Frankie clears his throat and fetches up a sigh.  
"I guess the tour's cancelled?" he asks in a small voice.  
Indeed, Jonny turns to the van and fetches up a sigh. In the dim light, I can make out the grave expression on his face. I turn my head to find Danny poking his head out of the doorway to speak to him.  
"It doesn't look good," he tells us. "Neither of them have seen Cliff. Their driver's pretty spooked, too."  
"What happened, though?" Danny demands.  
"They hit that patch of black ice - the same one we did - and I guess their driver tried to save it but they were a bunch of passengers at that point. That bus is way bigger than this little van so it was a much larger task to hold it back."  
"So... what should we do?" asks Charlie.  
"Well, for now, we'll head on back to the service station and tell the clerks in there to call the police and see if we can get that bus back on the road. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to make some other calls, too, and say that the Metallica camp has just lost their bus. The tour is postponed for the time being, that is until we can figure things from here on out. Which means, we all get to go home for the time being."  
But I don't want to return home! Not now! Not here!  
I turn to Joey as his expression turns grave, and then he closes his eyes. I throw my arms around him and hold him so close to me.

***********************

It was a long morning for all of us, especially since it took a while for the crane to show up and lift the bus off of the side of the road. Until then, Joey, Lars, and I sat on the back edge of the van floor huddled all together. I had my arms around the both of them: I did it with Lars to bring him some bit of comfort. The poor thing was terrified out of his wits. I wanted to hold onto the side of his head and give him a little kiss on the cheek, but alas, I could not. Not with Joey there.  
The whole entire time I had a weird, off-kilter feeling lingering within me, like all was not well here, given since we saw the three of them walk away from the bus accident.  
It also didn't help matters that the crane sling on the bus slipped and the whole thing came slamming down on the ground once again.  
Once they did bring it back into its upright monolithic position, however, Cliff was nowhere to be seen. We all have our assumptions but at the same time, we all have a feeling we don't want to know.  
I didn't know Cliff very well enough, but it's rather surreal given that this guy whom I was just having dinner with last night in Stockholm, and again and again over the course of the past two weeks, who was just here, is nowhere to be seen now. This guy who thought it was so cool that I was to be a dancer. This guy with the big hearty laugh and an even heartier appetite to rival Joey's. This guy who left me feeling mesmerized the few times I caught a glimpse of Metallica playing on all of these shows.  
He was starting to feel like a friend to me.  
But now, I am never going to see him again.  
Frankie was in tears the whole entire drive back to Stockholm: Charlie and I had our arms around him to bring him some kind of comfort. Joey, Danny, Scott, and Jonny were all totally silent.  
All of us were silent the whole hour drive back to the airport. All of us are flying back to England, then New York City. And then I'm going all the way back to Seattle because I have to work.  
The five of them walk with me to the terminal for the flight back to Seattle.   
Once the entrance enters our view, I turn to them with tears in my eyes.  
I open my arms to Frankie first and I hold him so close to me.  
I embrace Charlie next, and then Danny, and Scott.  
Last but not least, I turn to Joey and his trembling bottom lip.  
"Last kiss for now," I tell him with a break in my voice, putting my arms around his waist and my lips onto his. He then holds me so tight, tighter and closer than he's ever held me.  
"Call me when you get home," he whispers into my ear.  
"You know I will," I assure him in an equal whispered voice. I let go of him to look into his wide, grave brown eyes for another few seconds. I then pick up my things and adjust the strap on my purse before turning to the gate.  
"Call us when you get back," Scott echoes Joey's words.  
"Of course," I assure him. "Of course."  
I blow them one last kiss before turning heels and heading onto the plane back to the old life I want to leave once for all.


	20. the return, the quarrel, and the third phone call

I return to Seattle at about nine o'clock in the morning. I will proclaim that the good side of returning to the West Coast has helped ease off the feeling of jet lag. I wonder who I'm going to call first as the plane touches down on the cold black runway there in the heart of Sea-Tac. The whole entire way back here I have been unable to shake the image of the bus laying on its side from mind.  
I'm still in disbelief that Cliff is gone now. I'm still in disbelief that I am never going to see him again. And I'm disbelief that I'm having to come back here because of my dismal job.  
I make my way through the airport once more towards the parking lot; I stop outside of the big doors to delve through my purse for my car keys when someone clearing their throat catches my attention. I look up to the sight of Ben standing there with his arms folded over his chest and his body leaned back against the door panel of the car, my car.  
"Ben!" I declare, leaping back a bit at the sight of him. "What're you—doing here?"  
"I should ask you the same thing," he sneers, gesturing to the passenger side door. "Get in the damn car."  
I close my purse, and pick up my bag from the sidewalk, and slip it into the backseat. I take my seat there on the passenger side as my heart is sinking at what's about to come. The inside of the car smells of stale beer and the stench of marijuana. Ben turns the keys, which are still in the ignition, and switches on the engine. I dare not ask him if he's been drinking because I know for a fact that he has had a sip or two at some point beforehand.  
We take the long way back to the Island, through Tacoma and Bremerton and up the Peninsula. I can perhaps slice through the silence with a knife by the time the signs for the turn off onto Bainbridge Island enter our view. I lick my lips as he turns onto the little two lane road taking us over the inlet and into the northern side of the Island.  
I assume that Lily is at my dad's house, unless he has in fact descended that far.  
I swallow down my nervousness but it's futile, especially once the house appears before us. I sigh through my nose as he never slows down and almost plows right into the sidewalk. He slams on the brakes, and yanks on the parking lever, and switches off the car. Without hesitating for another second, I clamber out of the car to the door behind me to fetch my things.  
But before I can open the door, he grips onto my wrist to stop me.  
"Ben!" I exclaim, struggling to break free; my voice echoes over the black pavement before us. "Ben! Ben, let go of me!"  
He clasps onto my other wrist. I struggle a bit more and then I realize he's not letting go of me.  
"Who is he," he demands in a low guttural growl of a voice, right in my face.  
"What're you talking about?" I retort as my wrists ache from his firm grip.  
"Who is he, Ginny! I know you're messing around with someone else!"  
"I'm not, Ben!" I declare. "I swear to you. There isn't another man."  
"Bullshit. Then where were you the past month?"  
"I told you, I was invited to go on a trip with friends! Our trip was a little more than a ride over to the coast! Why are you making such a huge deal about this?"  
"Because I called your boss and asked if you were in fact on a trip with friends, and he said you just asked for some more vacation days. He didn't say whether you were with someone else or not. No one else clocked out for this past month except you."  
I gape at what he's saying.  
"How _dare_ you!" I bark at him.  
"How dare _YOU_!" he argues back, his face turning bright red.  
"What makes you think you have the right to call up my work and dig into my business like that!" I give him a shove back from me.  
"What makes you think you have the right to take your money with you somewhere and not tell me!" He grips onto my wrists again.  
"Let GO OF ME!"  
"I'll let go when you give an answer!"  
"I did! Get OFF OF ME!"  
I kick him right in the stomach and that's when he lets go of me. He staggers backward, clutching onto his bloated belly in agony. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.  
"Hold onto me like that again and next time will be lower," I warn him. I fling open the door and take out my things, and stalk back to the front step of the house. I keep walking on into the bedroom at the end of the hallway to hide my dress and all of the new clothes I bought in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. I decide to keep them all in their hiding place as I tuck it on the inside of the closet.  
I close the door and stand up, and turn to face the door right as he's stepping into the bedroom.  
"Don't ever kick me in the stomach again," he snaps at me.  
"Don't go snooping around when I'm not here, then," I retort to him. "Where's Lily?"  
"Doesn't matter."  
"The hell it does! Where's Lily?"  
"Not tellin' you." He folds his arms over his chest.  
"Why are you being like this?"  
"I should ask you the same thing. Why did you leave for a month?"  
"I was going to come right back!" I insist.  
"No you weren't," he snarls. "You were not coming back."  
"If I wasn't coming back, why did I ask my boss for more vacation days? Huh?"  
"So you can have more time to figure out where you wanna go without me!"  
"Oh, Ben, please," I scoff at him.  
"Don't 'please' me."  
"Fine then, I won't! You don't deserve my pleasure!"  
I push past him into the hallway. I storm out of there, and head on back to the living room, and take a seat on the couch. I fold my arms over my chest and try to calm down. Joey and the boys can wait for a moment: I'm not going to risk calling any one of them when Ben is being like this. I sit there with my arms close to my chest and my legs crossed: there's no way I'm letting that man touch me. No way. Not anymore.  
"What the hell is all of this?" Ben calls out from the other end of the hallway.  
"All of what?" I call back.  
"All of these clothes?"  
"You're going through my things!" I turn my body back enough to see him staggering into the room with that dress in hand.  
"When'd you get this?" he demands, holding it out for me to see.  
"A while back. What, I'm forbidden from buying something nice for myself?"  
He drops the dress on the floor.  
And then he steps on it. Walks all over it.  
"BEN!" I yell at him, climbing to my feet. He kicks it and it tumbles over to the door. I scrounge it up from the carpet to find his dirty footprints all over the nice fabric: one of the polka dots also fell off. It's ruined. This nice dress I bought to look sexy for Joey.  
I lower it and turn to him, feeling my heart pound inside of my chest. I gesture to the front door.  
"Get out," I snap at him. "Get the hell out of this house. I never want to see you again."  
"YOU get out!" he shrieks, his face turning red again.  
"Where's Lily?" I shout. "Where's my daughter!"  
He purses his lips together out of fury.  
"Ben Kilroy, I am not leaving this house until you tell me what you did with Lily!"  
He doesn't reply. My heart continues to pound, this time out of fear. I knew I should have taken her to New York and my mom's place.  
"What did you do," I demand in a curt voice, "with Lily."  
He's silent still for another minute, albeit one that feels like an hour. And then he turns around and starts back down the hallway once again.  
"Ben!" I exclaim. "Ben, what did you do with Lily! Get back here!"  
"No," he stubbornly replies, never looking back at me.  
"Ben! BEN!"  
I feel the tears rising up within me. I watch him disappear into the bedroom. He doesn't close the door but I don't see him again. I cradle the dress in my hands as the tears are burning in my eyes. I start to weep.  
I duck back into the living room and lay the dress out on the sofa cushions. Through my teary eyes, I can see the footprints on the skirt and on one side of the bodice. It's not ruined: nothing a run through the washing machine can't fix. But one of the spots still fell off, and he still did that to my dress, and he still delved through my things. And I'm still crying after all of this.  
I run into the kitchen to pick up the phone. I can barely read the numbers on the dial, but I manage to see them anyway. I punch it in and hold the phone up to my ear. I'm met with two dial tones and then he picks up.  
"Hello?"  
"Joey?" my voice breaks as I reply.  
"Oh, hey, baby doll! I was just thinking about you—"  
I sniffle and weep, although I'm not sure if it's from everything that happened or from the sound of his voice.  
"What's—" he hesitates. "—what's wrong? Are you okay?"  
I burst into full on tears right then, and cover my face with my free hand.  
"Ginny? What's wrong, babe?" The worried tone in his voice only makes me cry even more.  
"Ginny?"  
I sniffle and try to pull myself together, but it's useless. I keep crying into the phone.  
"Ginny, when you cry, I cry." I catch a break in his voice and I have to sink down to the floor with my face buried in my free hand. He gasps into the phone and I know he's crying, too. I made him cry.  
"Ginny—" he begs. "Ginny—tell me. Please."  
I sniffle and close my mouth, and try to breathe through my nose.  
"I need you," I manage to sputter out in a broken voice.  
"You—You do?"  
I sniffle again.  
"Uh-huh."  
"Tell me. What do you need. I'm here. I'm not there in Sea-Town—" He sniffles, too. "—but I am in fact here talking with you."  
"Okay. I need you to listen."  
"Go ahead. I'm listening."  
I stifle down another sniffle and another round of tears. I hold my free hand to my chest to steady my breathing.  
"—I—I have a daughter."  
Silence on his end.  
"Are you okay?"  
"Yeah. I just—I kinda wish you told me that sooner." He sniffles again. "Y'know—us being over in Europe and whatnot, and—the whole thing with the bus."  
"That's why I wanted to tell you," I confess to him. "I know. I should've—I should've said something beforehand—"  
"Well, if you wanted to tell it to me now, especially after the bus accident, I totally get it. I would think that that's something you'd share with someone when you're getting close to them."  
"And we are getting close," I point out, sniffling again.  
"We are. So... tell me. What's her name?"  
"Lily."  
"Lily. Lily Munster."  
I giggle at him and he laughs back.  
"The other reason why I wanted to tell you," I start again, brushing away a tear from my left eye, "is... she's kind of missing."  
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. So, that's why you're crying?"  
I pause for a second.  
"—yes."  
"I wish there was something I could do," he confesses.  
"There's nothing you can do. I just—have to go out and look for her."  
"And you wanted to tell me as well as getting back to me when you got home."  
"Right. I wanted to tell you because I—" I sniffle again, and close my eyes, and feel my bottom lip tremble.  
"You what?"  
I feel the tears coming on again. After what Ben has put me through here in this house the past three years, and after spending all of that time with Joey over in the British Isles, it's brought me to face the scars in my own heart. The scars in my heart and the feeling I get when I hear his voice.  
"Ginny?" he kindly asks me. "What is it?"  
"—because I love you."  
He's silent again.  
"I know this is not a good place to say that over the phone but I can't deny it. I love you. I love you, Joey. I hide and sneak around and say stuff after the fact and fuck shit up because I have such a dour heart full of broken dreams and yet I love you. I love you no matter what the feeling. I wanted to tell you because I love you and want you in my life. As for Lily, I don't know. I just don't know what to do with her."  
"Hey, you know, when I was growing up, my parents didn't know what to do with me," he assures me.  
"But I don't think like that, though. Leaving her here."  
"Was she with family, though?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then she'll be fine. I'm not just saying that 'cause I turned out—decent, I guess? But I'm telling that to you because I don't want you to worry."  
"It's not hard not to," I point out to him, sniffling again.  
"When I was growing up, you know, I played a lot of hockey in the front yard with my friends and broke a lot of windows. And then I got into drumming and then singing. I was a handful for my parents and their families—you know my aunt called me 'sassy' and she meant it. She meant every part of that. But she said it because I'm such a free spirit. I don't like being tied down, even when I'm in love. I like to walk around and stretch my legs, you know? Maybe she's like that, too. Maybe she wandered off because she wants to do the same as the damn Injun, even though I don't know her. I'm just using myself as an example because I don't know the first thing about kids, other than I myself am one, but—it's all I can do. I don't know what else to do."  
I sniffle yet again and brush away another tear.  
"You are so sweet," I remark. "I wish I was there."  
"I wish you were here, too. You know, when I walked through the door earlier, I thought 'God, I wish Ginny was here, that she came with me. I wish she didn't have to work at that stupid job and have to live over in Seattle...'" His voice trails off.  
And then I stop right there. I glance to my left to make sure Ben isn't eavesdropping. I'm alone in the kitchen.  
"Actually, Joey," I begin again.  
"Yeah?"  
"I have an idea. It's—batshit insane, but it is in fact an idea."  
"Well... shoot. I've got time. I dunno 'bout you, but I've got time until Jonny calls back, and who knows when that'll be, so I've got time. Tell me."  
"I'm gonna need you guys to get me out of here, because I'm out of money and I don't go back to work until Wednesday which is when my vacation days run out."  
"Okay... I dunno how we're gonna do that 'cause we don't have much money ourselves, and the tour being postponed doesn't help matters. But—sounds like you're desperate, though."  
"I am," I confess to him. "I can't take it anymore. I miss you guys and I need to be in New York. I need to be closer to my mom."  
"And you wanna hang with us," he concludes with a chuckle.  
"And I want you guys," I lower my voice to a near whisper.  
"Hey, and it's interesting you say this now because... you know, my birthday's on the thirteenth."  
"Is it really?"  
"Yeah. I'll be twenty-six. Maybe I can give Scott a ring and tell him—you know, you wanna be here and you have no easy way out. Once we're off the phone, I'll call him up and tell him that."  
"Please."  
"Okay. Okay, I'll do that. It'll be a birthday gift to myself, to have you here with us. And you go look for Lily, alright? Go look for her and—you know. Do what worried moms do, I dunno, I'm terrible."  
"No," I assure him. "No, you're not. You're not terrible. You're a sweet, sweet boy with a heart of gold. I'm lucky to have you." I sniffle again. "I've gotta go."  
"Okay. I'll call Scott."  
"I love you," I whisper into the mouthpiece.  
"I love you, too," he replies in a near whisper, and we hang up at the same time. The house is still silent. My hope is that Lily is at my dad's house and not at the bottom of the Puget Sound.


	21. the little one, the grandparents, and the sneak attack

_September 30, 1986. Bainbridge Island, Washington_.

I had slept on the couch for the past three days and been unable to sleep comfortably at that, too. Maybe it's jet lag, or maybe it's the fact Lily is missing, or maybe it's in anticipation of Joey possibly calling back the house.  
I have no idea if Ben overheard my phone call to Joey the other night and I frankly don't care, either. He and I are officially done: he told me to leave and now I'm just waiting to hear back from my dad. My assumption is that Lily is with him: now I can think straight since I'm in the mood to leave this house, and this area, and never return.  
But on the other hand, I can't help but feel a lingering sensation of doubt in the back of my mind. Ben never told me that Lily's with my dad: he never even spoke a word about it when I asked him. He told me to leave and then went back into the bedroom, and left the door open on top of that, too. He picked me up from the airport, too.  
It's almost as if he doesn't want me to leave. We have known each other long enough that it makes sense that of course he's afraid. Of course he's acting like this. He's acting out because he has his worries.  
But I've had enough. I will always love Ben, but we can't do this. I need to go to New York to live my heart's dreams and he needs to clean up his act before the next bed he'll be laying in is a hospital bed. I need to leave. I can't live with someone who can't let me have my freedom.  
I managed to wash my dress yesterday and the dirty footprints came right out as how I imagined. But when I put it in the dryer, it shrank a little bit.  
Joey loves my body, anyway: he'll love how the dress accentuates it a little more now.  
I finally climb out off of the couch on this morning in order to fetch my things, including my purse, out of the bedroom. I go back to work tomorrow, but I'm willing to take a chance and put in my two weeks. I can find my way as a dancer in New York, and I have hope for Anthrax, even after Metallica's bus accident.  
It's still early, given the sun is barely peeking over the eastern side of the valley and that side of Mount Rainier. In the dim light, I make my way down the hall to the bedroom, where Ben is sound asleep on the bed, on once was our bed. I sigh through my nose, and pick up my purse from the floor, and my overnight bag of clothes I bought in the British Isles out of the closet. Ben never stirs as I head out of the bedroom and back down the hallway to the front door.  
Like with the few days before, I set down my travel bag on the front step in order to search for the keys. I find them there at the bottom of my purse, right underneath my passport, but I don't think Ben even took out the spare set out of the ignition.  
But as I go to check the dashboard of the car, I find that I have this one set of keys on me.  
I take the car right as the first golden orange rays of sun are rising over the whole entire Seattle area. I once again take the long way off of the Island, onto the Peninsula and drive all the way down to Tacoma, and then double back up to Seattle. At this point, the sun has risen over the valley and I hope that Lily is safe with my dad.  
I look to the north at the heavy gray rain clouds beginning to form over the Sound.  
There is nothing I want more than to be by Joey's side again.  
I make my way through the heart of downtown and into Mountlake Terrace followed by Lynnwood. Clouds begin to cover the sun's golden rays and I feel a shiver run up my spine. I'm still thinking of that early morning in Sweden, just a few days ago. How we seemed to let Cliff slip away into the nothing: I'm not going to let my daughter, or my boyfriend for that matter, slip away because of the shambles of this old life. Not on my watch.  
The freeway follows the curvature of the mainland, which grows more and more woodsy with each passing mile. The trees are still holding onto their rich, lush green color, even with summer having come and gone through here.  
I think the one thing I'll miss here is the punk scene. I have no idea what it's like in New York City, or in upstate for that matter. But however it is, I welcome it and I hope it welcomes me in return. Add to this, I look forward to the lakeside outside of Joey's place, and I look forward to seeing my mom again.  
Within time, the trees behold the little town of Everett as it overlooks a small inlet of the Puget Sound. My dad lives right on the outskirts of town: I hang the first right and follow the road into the trees for a bit until I recognize his little white farm house nestled there in the pines. I spot him and Lily on the front deck together once I pull into his gravel driveway. He's seated in a heavy wooden chair while she's knelt down on the deck right next to his feet.  
"There's my little girl," he calls out as part of his greeting once I climb out of the car. He turns to Lily and points at me. "Look! Your mama's here."  
But she's too focused on the little doll he probably bought for her. I ascend the front steps and open my arms for him.  
"Thank you," I whisper into his ear. "Just—thank you, Daddy."  
"Of course, honey," he whispers back to me. I pull back to look right into his face. "I'm so sorry that things are falling apart in between the two of you. You win some, you lose some, I guess. At least, that's how it ended between me and your mom. And it's funny because he called. Like ten minutes ago."  
"He did?" I raise my eyebrows at him.  
"Yeah. Some guy called your house a little bit ago, asking for you. Ben said you weren't there and hung up."  
"Did—Did he say what his name was? The guy I mean?"  
"Yeah, some doofus named Frank. Frank who said he was looking for you because he and his buddies are coming here to visit you, or something like that. Ben is just—I'm glad you're closing the door on him, sweetie. He's such a mess now."  
"Yeah, I'll say..." My voice trails off.  
They're coming. They're flying out to Seattle right now.  
Frankie called the house, probably to give me a heads-up, and Ben answered and probably chewed him out, too. I hope neither of them asks me who he was because I don't want to tell either of them.


	22. the dolls, the coffee, and the stall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Love is friction,  
>  ripe for comfort.  
> Endless equations  
> and tugging persuasions.  
> Doors open up  
> to interpretation..."_  
> -"Dance of the Clairvoyants", Pearl Jam

I can scarcely enjoy my time with Lily here at my dad's house. I can't stop going over everything that happened. It's all whirling through my mind like a tornado that I can't hardly think straight or check out the doll he gave her.  
Frankie called the house. Frankie called the house. Frankie called the damn house.  
It's driving me crazy.  
I'm in trouble now. I wish I told Joey about Lily sooner, and now he's going to wonder who was that strange man who picked up at the house. I can only maintain my hope once they land down in Sea-Tac; I can only hope now that Joey will ask me if that was my dad, or better yet, he won't ask me at all. We can merely fly out to New York together with Lily. I already called my boss to put in my two weeks notice but he retracted and told me I'm fired because I took too many vacation days.  
I sit there on the couch and watch her play on the carpet. At one point, I close my eyes and think of Joey right there next to me, with his hand on my thigh and his voice singing softly into my ear. I don't know if I left the tape at the house.  
And my eyes pop open at the thought of that.  
I left the tape at the house. Ben probably found it while I was away and that's how he put two and two together. He may be a drunk but he's not an idiot.  
And neither am I. But at some point, I have to run on down to Sea-Tac to meet up with them. The flight from New York City to Seattle isn't very long.  
"Hey, Lily," I call out to her. "Lily?"  
She flicks her head around such that her long black hair slides back off of her arm like it's made of silk.  
"What do you say... we go live with Grandma? At least for now."  
She shakes her head, which makes her hair shake about.  
"No? She's got a really nice place. Nice, and big, and comfy, and cozy, and I'm sure she'd be happy to see you, too. It's kinda far away over in New York but I'm sure of it, though."  
She rubs her nose with the back of her hand and she has this wounded look upon her face. I nibble on my bottom lip. I know I'm going to have to break it to her at some point, and now is that time.  
"Listen," I crawl off of the couch and kneel down next to her on the floor with the dolls my dad gave her. "We can't live with Daddy anymore."  
"Why?" she squeaks out.  
"Well, it's... kind of hard to explain. But—he's not making things very comfy, I would say. I've tried to help him, but he won't let me help him. And I worry about him doing something to me, in particular. Not necessarily to you, but to me."  
"Why?" she asks again. I shrug my shoulders.  
"I don't know, sweetie. I wish I did. I wish I did know why he's acting like this. But... look at it like this. We go to New York to spend some time with Grandma and I can find a way there for the both of us. It's like... a whole new world. A brand new world for just you and me both. I know, it's a little scary, but think of it as having a whole new world of your own. One that you can call home. See, that house we lived in—I didn't think of that as home. But New York—that's home for me. And you can make it yours, too. You can make it your home, too. Does that make sense?"  
And she nods her head at me.  
"Okay." I smile at her. "That's my girl. Come here—"  
I open my arms for her to give me a hug.  
I'm doing this for myself, for Joey, and also for Lily.  
"Okay. Go pick up your things and we'll say good-bye to Grandpa. And, we will visit him. I promise. Pinky promise." I hold out my pinky finger for her to take hold of for a moment, and then she clambers to her feet to pick up her dolls. She runs into the back room of the house to fetch her things. At least now I don't have to worry about paying for daycare on her part: one less thing to worry about.  
Once she's got her little bag over her shoulder, I guide her to the front of the house. He stands up from the chair to meet up with us.  
"Are you going?" he asks me with a concerned look upon his face.  
"Yeah, I've got—some business to tend to all the way over in New York. But yes, we will visit." I turn to Lily as I take her hand.  
"Okay, honey," he opens his arms for me and I hold him close. "Say hi to your mom for me."  
"I will," I promise to him in a near whisper. "I'll call when we get there, too." He lets go of me and turns to Lily.  
"Say good bye to Grandpa," I tell her.  
"'Bye, sweetie—" He reaches down to hug her.  
Once we've bode our farewells, I lead Lily back outside to the car in the driveway and help her into the back seat. Lucky for me, we're flying across the country and not halfway around the world so I don't have to worry about her going through customs. I give one last wave to my dad before we back out of the driveway and onto the street.  
As we're rolling away, I start missing him. That's another thing I'll miss about Seattle: having my dad close by. But a promise is a promise, and I promised that Lily and I will in fact visit whenever we please.  
I drive us down to Sea-Tac, all the way to the airport: at this point, the sun has disappeared behind the rich gray blanketing the sky overhead. They're probably there by now. And maybe we're taking the red-eye because I can't see them hopping on another plane willy-nilly once I get there.  
Indeed, once I find a spot near the front door, and I guide Lily into the airport, Scott and Frankie are awaiting us near the area for baggage claim.  
"'Ay!" Frankie greets me with a glimmer in his eye and a piece of gum in his mouth.  
"Oh, who's this little lady?" Scott calls out, eyeing Lily once we come closer.  
"This is my daughter, Lily," I introduce her. Frankie shows her a friendly little grin and she ducks behind me to protect her from them.  
"He's nice," I assure her. "I promise you, Lil, Frankie's a sweetie. He's my friend—he wouldn't be if he wasn't a sweetie."  
"Hey, Lily!" He gives her a pretty little wave. "I don't bite, I promise." But she continues to hide behind me given these are two very strange men.  
"She looks just like her mom," he answers with a beaming smile. "Eh, it's probably the hair and the Bronx accent that's scaring her. It's understandable, New Yorkers can be pretty formidable at times. Here, let me help you—" He takes my travel bag and Lily's little one, and slings both over his shoulder and begins walking towards baggage claim.  
"I didn't know you had a daughter," Scott remarks to me, knitting his thick eyebrows together.  
"Didn't Joey tell you?" I point out in a hushed voice.  
"I think he did!" Frankie recalls over his shoulder.  
"Oh, yeah, he did!" Scott corrects himself. "He sounded in distress, though."  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah. Like—he wasn't expecting it."  
"Well, I don't blame him. I was going to tell him, but—"  
"Never could?"  
"'Fraid not."  
"That's alright. At least we're meeting her now and not when she's a teenager."  
"Oh, right? Anyways, let's get a move on."  
"Yeah, the next flight back to New York is in a couple of hours, so Joey, Charlie, and Danny are all waiting for us in a coffee shop way over here."  
"Of course!" I coax Lily along after me. "C'mon, Lily!"  
Once Frankie has us started on the baggage claim, we walk with the two of them towards the coffee house down the corridor. It's a cozy warm lit little place with a raised up counter top so as to resemble a bar and a series of narrow black iron bar stools. Joey is seated at the one closest to the door, sipping what looks like a cappuccino with the creamy white whipped cream on top. Not a cup, but an actual glass with a handle on one side.  
He turns in time to see me and Lily walking together into the shop. He swallows the swig of cappuccino as he gazes on at her with a thoughtful look on his face. He grimaces a bit, and I don't know if it's from the coffee or the fact that he's just now meeting Lily.  
"Lily, this is Joey. He's... my best friend." I gaze into his brown eyes and the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips.  
"Lily Munster," he greets her in a broken voice. She ducks behind me again at the sight of him.  
"She's a little shy," I assure him.  
"Oh, that's—okay. I was a shy kid once. And I can look kinda like... a tobacco store Indian at times."  
"This is Charlie—" I gesture to him as he's seated on Joey's right.  
"Oh, hey! The infamous Lily!"  
"—and this is Danny." He rounds the other side of Charlie to crouch down right before her. She peeks out at him as he holds out one hand for her.  
"Would you like some juice?" he offers her, and she nods her head. "Charlie and I'll get you some apple juice if you want."  
"They've got good muffins here, too," Joey adds.  
"Yeah, you want a muffin?" Danny asks, and she nods again.  
"Yeah, go make friends with Danny!" I offer her. "I'll be right here, I promise."  
Danny coaxes her out from behind me as Frankie and Scott approach the counter for themselves. There's only five stools and thus I stand there next to Joey. He flicks his black curls back a bit before gazing up at me.  
"Hello, my love," he greets me, bringing the glass up to his lips.  
"Hey, baby, how you doin'?" I greet him, bringing my lips to the side of his face. His skin is as soft as ever; he shows me a bashful smile before taking a drink of coffee. He sets down the glass with care, using both hands.  
"You should get something for yourself," he insists, "we've got lots of time before the plane leaves."  
"Good idea!"  
I ask for a chai latte with cream on top and a chocolate muffin. I hover next to his left shoulder with one hand pressed to my hip.  
"So, um—who was that dude who answered earlier?" he asks me.  
"What dude?"  
"The dude who picked up when Frankie called."  
"That was just... my dad," I assure him.  
"Oh, I see." He nods at me. "I ask 'cause Frankie said he sounded pissed."  
"Well, it was just... you know. Early in the morning."  
He shrugs his shoulders.  
"Ah, makes sense. Time zones and whatnot." He clears his throat before taking another sip from his glass.  
"So," he begins in a soft, velvety voice; he leans back and folds his hands over his chest. I watch him slouch down in the seat there, right before me.  
"So what?" I ask him, eyeing him with intent.  
"Now that we're alone—we got a couple of hours." He shows me his tongue and a glance back at the back of the room behind us. I peer up at the other side of the room and the sight of the bathroom doors over there.  
"Oh, I see what you want," I follow along with his logic. "But the bathroom, Joey?"  
"Yeah. What say you and I have a... little rendezvous in there."  
"In the _bathroom_ , though? Joey."  
"Yeah. What? What's wrong with that? Hey, when we're done, we can easily clean up with the paper towels and nice soap they have in there."  
"But I'm almost out of birth control, though."  
"It's alright. I won't come right away." He winks at me.  
"You like to pull out, too."  
"Shhhh..." He brings a finger to his dark lips.  
"Okay, let's do it," I whisper to him as the barista brings my glass of chai over to me. I thank her and return to him and the raised eyebrows behind his black curly bangs.  
"You wanna do it?"  
"Yeah! It'll give my coffee a chance to cool down a little bit, too."  
"Yeah, that's kinda the problem with these glasses—they get too flippin' hot." He takes one final sip and fixes the lapels on his jacket; I walk ahead towards the bathroom door and that's when Lily calls out for me from in between Danny and Charlie.  
"I'm just going to bathroom, sweetie!" I assure her. "I'll be right back!"  
"Yeah, she'll be back!" Danny chimes in, putting his arm around her. I keep on walking towards the ladies' room, where I'm greeted by the clean smell of soap and The Who softly playing on the speakers overhead. I choose the narrow stall closest to the door, the one with a smooth brick wall dividing the stalls from the entrance, and I duck in there, right behind the door, and wait a few seconds.  
The bathroom door itself opens again.  
"Ginny? Ginny, where are you?"  
"In here!"  
I poke my head out from behind the door at the sight of Joey lurking down as if he's about to caught. He turns around to see me and lunges for the stall himself. It's a tight squeeze, even with his being so slender in build. But he manages to wedge his way in here, past the smooth pearly white tiles, and I close the door and lock it behind him.  
"Okay, c'mere, kitty kitty," he commands me.  
"I'm already here, you dirty, filthy dog!" I whisper to him, and I put my arms around his waist and my lips onto his. It's such a tight fit with the both of us crammed in between the toilet and the paper dispenser behind his butt, but it'll buy us a moment's worth of intimacy for the time being. I'm careful to keep my breathing and my pleasured groans under control, but I have to let them out. I'm reunited with Joey and if we have to be sneaky about it, so be it.  
Every kiss on my part goads a soft groan from his throat. Every touch of his hand on my lower back is a pulsation down in between my legs.  
He lets go of my lips out of the blue at one point.  
"Ow," he groans.  
"What's the matter?"  
"This—this—this thing behind my butt."  
"What's the matter? Don't something in that cute butt of yours?"  
"Not unless you want something in yours," he whispers into my face.  
"Oh, you're nasty," I tease him.  
"Ginny?" Danny's voice calls into the bathroom from the doorway.  
"Yeah?" I reply back to him.  
"I think Lily needs to use the potty herself."  
"Dammit," Joey blurts out in a hushed voice.  
"Joey?" Danny calls again, and Joey purses his lips together. But it's too late at that point.  
"Here—here, let me out," I grunt out, unlocking the door. It's difficult because he can only move so much and I'm having to press my butt right up against his crotch and the tops of his thighs.  
"Easy there," he whispers into my ear.  
"A real lap dance once we get into New York," I promise him, also in a whisper. I stumble out of there and into the open to find Danny and Lily standing there in the doorway, awaiting me. I gesture for her to follow me.  
"Come on, Lily!" I coax her into the bathroom and she prances in after me. Before we head into the big handicapped stall, I notice Joey stumbling out of the one closest to the door. He lets out a huff and runs his fingers through the curls on top of his head.  
"It's not what it looks like," he assures Danny, his face flushing.  
"I... think it pretty much is what it looks like," Danny answers, chuckling. "Come on, you crazy bastard—"  
"We'll see you guys in a minute!" I call after them.


	23. the flight, the darkness, and the cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Some girls won't dance to the beat of the track.  
>  She won't walk away but she won't look back;  
> she looks good but her boyfriend says she's a mess,  
> she's a mess she's a mess."_  
> -"Dance in the Dark", Lady Gaga

We board the next plane out to New York City at about two o'clock in the afternoon, meaning we'll get there at about dinner time. At this point, Lily has all but fallen asleep in Danny's arms; when we arrive at the terminal gate, I find her leaning her head against his chest as he's carrying her towards us.  
Joey and I board the plane first and take our seats right behind the middle, and coincidentally, right behind Scott and Charlie; across the aisle from them is Danny, Lily, and Frankie. By the looks of it, we're a mere few amongst the other passengers in here.  
I turn to Joey as he's shuffling the tip of his tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other.  
"What you thinkin'," I whisper to him.  
"What do you think?" he whispers back to me.  
"I think you want it—" I lean in closer to his handsome face for a whiff of his cologne and the soft soap under his neck. I don't kiss him but I do examine the smoothness of his skin. I open the collar of his jacket and his shirt to show off a little more skin for himself.  
"You wanna—?" he asks me in a soft voice, soft enough for me to hear but I'm not sure about Scott and Charlie in front of us. He nods towards the back of the plane.  
"Let's," I breathe into his face; he closes his eyes as I move in closer to his parted lips. I still don't kiss him, but I can tell he wants it. He wants it so bad. I can tell he can't take it anymore: he has that look on his face and his parted lips just tell me this boy needs a little drink of something.  
"Come with me," I whisper to him, stroking his collar bones and standing to my feet. I strip off my black coat and lay it over the seat. I make my way down the aisle towards the tiny cramped bathroom. It's about the size of a broom closet, but I know there's a little more room in here for the two of us than that bathroom stall in the coffee shop. The one other difference is the only light is from the fine stream of light filtering in from the crack between the door and the floor.  
I peel off my shirt right as he ducks inside of here.  
"Ooh, it's dark in here," he remarks, closing the door and turning the lock. In the dim light, I see him taking off his shirt. I wonder if he can see this sexy black bra I have on, one of the many things I'm bringing with me from Seattle and one thing he hasn't seen yet.  
"It's perfect," I tell him. "Perfect for a little Goth chick such as myself and a total stud muffin such as yourself. We're gonna dance in the dark."  
"I want it," he begs me in a hushed voice, "I want it, please. I want it so bad! I've been so patient—I want it and I need it!"  
I take off my bra and hang it as well as my shirt up on the coat hook over the sink. I give my hair a slight toss back before turning to him.  
"Okay, come here, sexy boy," I whisper into his face.  
"Kiss me please," he pleads, "kiss me!"  
I lock my lips onto his and put my arms around his slender waist. This is all feeling, all feeling him up his back and his sides, and down around his waist and his ass.  
"I'm gonna give you a li'l spankin'," I whisper into his ear, "you bad boy."  
"Harder—" he growls into my ear. "Harder, damn it. Please—I need it so bad. God, please, I need it!"  
I spank him again.  
"Yes," he breathes as I spank him again and again, "yes, that's it! That's! It!"  
I reach down to undo his jeans: I feel him lean up against the wall. I already ground him in the hotel room in London—I'm gonna give him something else that'll please the both of us.  
I fondle him with three fingers and my thumb, and then I open my lips like I'm about to take a bite of ice cream. He gasps and shudders and shakes from the feeling. It's dark so I am unable to make out the look on his face or the sight of it right before me but I'm doing it.  
"Harder," he pleads; I feel him buckling his knees right before me. I clasp onto his thighs before moving in more and more. I move in deep, to the point I'm almost gagging on him. He lets out a gasp and a whimper, and that's when I let go.  
"What're you doing?" he demands in a hushed voice.  
"My turn now, big boy," I coax him, dropping my jeans and my panties around my ankles. "You naughty, nasty boy. You little devil. You're gonna get it good."  
"Gladly!"  
I feel him hold onto my left thigh with one hand; meanwhile, his other hand creeps up my bare stomach and onto my chest. I feel him touching my right nipple, followed by my left one. He's touching with the very tip of his finger. And then he presses his lips onto my left one, which makes me gasp.  
He kisses me all the way down my belly to my waist, but he hesitates right underneath my waist.  
"What're you doing?" I ask him.  
He doesn't answer. Instead I feel his fingers caress the inside of my thighs. And then he moves in. The feeling of his fingertips there makes me gasp; I follow it up with a soft groan.  
"Oh, my God," I breathe out, bringing a hand to my chest: I feel my nipples pointing underneath my forearm. "Oh, Joey—"  
"How 'bout this?"  
Without another second of hesitation, I feel the tip of his tongue grazing over my skin.  
"Eat it, baby," I whisper to him, feeling my heart pound. "Eat away! You're hungry—always hungry—"  
"I fucking am," he whispers back to me in a broken voice. He gives me another lick. I tilt my head back against the wall to take in the feeling, the feeling of his tongue, the feeling of Joey.  
The top is approaching, and then he lunges up to come face to face with me. I can make out the silhouette of his black curls, made blacker from the darkness around us, and the faint glimmer of his brown eyes right before me.  
"Would you like me to turn around, my Indian mister-ess?" I whisper into his face.  
"Please. Mister-ess, is that what you called me?"  
"Yeah—you like it?"  
"I love it. It's sexy... like you." I turn around right then and rub my bare butt against his sinewy thighs. In the dim light, I can see him taking one of his hands off of the wall; I then feel him rubbing my clit with two fingers, which in turn sends a shiver up my spine and makes me breathe even harder. I feel his face right next to my ear: some of his black curls rub up against the side of my neck and my face.  
" _Touch if you will my stomach,"_ he whispers in song, _"_ _feel how it trembles inside._ _You've got the butterflies all tied up. D_ _on't make me chase you, e_ _ven doves have pride_ _."_  
"Oh you bad boy," I whisper back to him as he fondles me more and more.  
"I need to be punished," he breathes into my ear. I reach behind me, past his wrist, and right in between his thighs. He gasps at the feeling of my fingers and I feel him lift off of my back. I let go for a moment in order to turn around to face him there in the darkness. He presses his back against the wall again. I take a hold of him again and then press my chest against his so he can feel my erect nipples.  
I kiss the side of his neck a few times before barring my teeth against his skin. Careful not to hurt him, I give him a gentle nibble; I feel his skin tightening inside of my hand. I follow up the nibble with a gentle sucking and then kiss him again.  
I feel him struggling.  
"Hold still, bad boy," I whisper in between another nibble and another sucking.  
"God—" he pleads. I hum into his ear to drive him even more wild and then I nibble on him again. He whimpers and groans inside of his throat. He's so firm inside of my hand, but I'm in charge here.  
"Not yet," I whisper to him again.  
"God, you're killin' me!" he grunts into my ear. I nibble on the same spot again and follow it up with a caress of the tip of my tongue. He takes a gasp and that's when I take a seat. I grind him right there. I bend my knees and gyrate my hips to and fro as I'm doing a lap dance.  
In the dim light, I see his head tilted back against the wall and turned away from the light so I can't see the look of euphoria upon his face. But I grind slow, hard, and deep so he's slipping and sliding right in between my legs. I know he's about to reach climax soon. He's hot and bothered.  
I press a hand to his slim, silky smooth stomach.  
"Not yet," I encourage him, running my fingers down the toned, slender muscles making up his thighs.  
"Jesus Christ, I'm ready to blow!" he pleads, still keeping his voice soft. But I keep grinding on him. He makes a noise that sounds like he's choking on something. I think it's best if I let him off.  
I go in deep and move out, fully away from him this time. He lets out a pained, stuttered moan, and I give him a gentle one in return. He comes right there, missing me by mere centimeters.  
I lift myself upright, still straddling his erection, and gaze right into his face, partially covered by his curls.  
"Good boy," I whisper into his lips, giving him a kiss there and then several on the spot on his neck where I nibbled on him. "Now, clean yourself up."  
I move back to wash up myself and put my clothes back on.  
Lucky for us, once we head out of there and head back to our seats, the plane is ready to take off. I hope no one dares ask about his disheveled hair or why I accidentally put my shirt on inside out. Oh, well.  
Joey runs his fingers underneath his bangs and over his eyes. He fetches up a sigh as he looks at me with his eyebrows raised and his lips parted enough to catch his breath: like he had been running a marathon. I'm warm myself, but not warm enough to not warrant a bit of nestling down next to him.  
"Yeah, of course," he whispers to me, putting his arm around me and holding me close. The collar of his shirt is still undone: I have my fingers there all the way through take-off, just so I can feel his skin even more before laying my head down on his chest and listening to his heartbeat as I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics to When Doves Cry by Prince!


	24. the subway, the street, and the earrings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"I’ve got blood on my hands in my pockets,  
>  that's what you get turning bullets into rockets.  
> I am a kid of a bad education,  
> a shooting star of a lowered expectation."_  
> -Green Day, "Oh Yeah!"

I wake up once the plane lands in New York City, and I find myself nestled up against Joey's chest. Strands of his curly black hair dangle over the top of my head as though he has a blanket pulled over me. I feel his arm still wrapped around me holding me close to him. I still hear his heartbeat steadily moving forth inside of him, right underneath my ear.  
I did it. I actually did it. I got Lily and myself out of Seattle and out of Ben's clutches, and into Joey's arms. We're going to see my mom in the process, too!  
The space between my legs still aches a little bit from going in so deep with him, but I can still feel where he tickled me and I can still taste him at the front of my mouth. I open my eyes a little bit, just enough to bear witness at the rose-colored spot on his neck, about the size of a pea, right underneath his Adam's apple.  
I branded him, and now he's mine. All mine.  
I keep my hand on his chest even as the warning lights flash on to tell us to buckle in. Freeing up my right hand, I reach down to tighten the belt over my waist, and then I tighten the one around his waist. The whole entire time, he never lets go of me and he never wakes up.  
I take a peek over my shoulder at the sight of Danny and Lily snuggled down in the seat across the aisle in front of us.  
She made a friend! I knew this was a good idea.  
I return to Joey's chest to feel his warmth and his steady heartbeat again for just a little while longer until we land.  
I take a peek out the window next to him at the sight of the rain drops streaking against the outside. The rain in New York always makes me think of romance, perhaps more so than the rain in Seattle. And here I am, with my brand-new romance holding me close to him as he sleeps.  
But I soon wake him up, and we all file off of the plane into JFK Airport. It's a short walk along the walkway, but I am eager to get out of this place and into the fresh New York rain.  
"Home, sweet home!" Scott declares as we step through the big sliding doors beholding the exit of the terminal. He holds his arms out as if he's about to twirl about in the rain.  
"So where to now?" asks Frankie as he hoists up his travel bag over his shoulder.  
"I thought we were taking Ginny with us to Montana studios," Charlie recalls, running his fingers through his hair.  
"We've got the little rocker with us, though," Scott points out, stepping back onto the curb and patting down the hair atop his head. We all turn to look at Danny holding Lily in his arms as though she is his own. I can't help but smile at the sight.  
"Sound asleep," he tells me, stroking her back. "Like she went right to sleep as soon as we took off."  
"She really did!" Frankie chimes in. "He and I were kinda worried that she would be a handful the whole time, but nope."  
"You're a lifesaver, Danny," I proclaim as I feel Joey resting his head against my upper back. "Especially since I have another sleepyhead on my hands."  
"But anyways, what should we do?" Frankie asks again. "I mean, we are in Queens after all."  
"My mom lives down in Brooklyn, though," I recall. "Like, right near the subway if I remember correctly, too."  
"Wow," Scott gapes at me. "Why didn't ya say something! We could'a had a plan for you guys upon returning home."  
"This looks like a job for improvisation," Charlie points out, raising a finger to the black sky.  
"Once we get there, I'm going right to bed," Joey mutters into my ear.  
"Okay, baby," I reply to him.  
There's a subway station about a block away from here and the bunch of us are eager to step aboard and ride all the way to Brooklyn. The subways here do in fact smell odd, and the rain doesn't really help matters, but if it's bringing me home to my mom, I'll take it as I pitch in for the fare.  
"I hate to do this to you," Scott starts as the sliding doors close, "but I live in Queens, and these two over here—" He gestures to Frankie and Charlie next to him on the seat. "—live way up in the Bronx.  
"Which means once I'm at the end of the line, I'm alone with Joey and Danny," I conclude.  
"Exactly! You know, it's just—"  
"Oh yeah. You guys wanna go home. It's understandable—I do, too."  
"Going home to your mom," Frankie adds.  
"Totally." I glance to my left at Danny as he's still holding Lily in his arms, and then I look over at Joey as he's rubbing his eye and struggling to stay awake. I'm starting to feel tired myself, from all of this running away and then having my encounter with him prior to take-off. I haven't slept much, either.  
I know that once we arrive in Brooklyn, I'm going to want to fall asleep in my mom's guest bed next to Joey. We reach the first stop and Scott gets off first.  
"I'll call you," I promise him, and he shows me a little smile, one where his dark eyes light up from underneath those thick eyebrows. The stops for Brooklyn come up next, and right before mine, Danny hands Lily over to me.  
"Go see her," he coos at her. "Go see your mama."  
"Thank you again, Danny," I tell him. She never stirs as I take her and cradle her in my arms. I look over at Joey, who has his head bowed a bit which makes his hair obscure his eyes again. My dark prince needs his beauty sleep.  
The train slows to a stop and Joey and I both stand to our feet.  
"Call us, too?" Frankie suggests to me in a soft voice.  
"Of course!" I reply to him, adjusting the strap on my purse with one hand and keeping her up against me with the other hand. I have Lily in my arms as I lead Joey out of the subway train into this dim lit, chilly station.  
"So where does she live?" he asks me in a broken voice.  
"She lives-" I turn my head to find him carrying both his things and mine. "Joey, let me help you with that."  
"No, no. Ginny, I'm a hockey player. I'm way stronger than I look. You've seen my thighs and my arm muscles: I'm strong. And besides, you have her with you at the moment. Don't worry about me."  
I have one hand pressed to the back of Lily's head and my other hand right underneath her thighs as I'm holding her close to me. I examine the exhausted look upon his face but he's determined. I can't help but smile at him and his kindness.  
"Anyway, she lives right up the block here if I remember correctly. She told me she lives right within view of the Twin Towers and the Statue of Liberty."  
We head up the stairs and into the dark night illuminated by the dim yellow lights and the signs of the shops and boutiques making up the heart and soul of Brooklyn. I lead the way to the crosswalk: off in the distance, through the low rising buildings and apartment complexes, I make out the glimmering lights of the Twin Towers, rising strong and high over the City on the other side of the river, shining like two columns of diamonds against the darkness.  
I stop right at the curb to adjust Lily given she's getting heavy from her not moving.  
And besides, I don't want to put all of this on Joey: he has enough with him already. The light turns green and we cross the vast stretch of dark pavement before us, using nothing but the light from the street around us.  
I reach the other side first and Joey follows right behind me. I keep walking up the sidewalk towards the apartment buildings down the wall. He's breathing hard right behind me.  
"Are you okay?" I ask him, turning my head just enough for a look back at him.  
"I may be strong, but-" he gasps, "-I'm also a skinny dude. I haven't eaten much today, either. Fuck."  
"It's okay, her building's right here."  
I guide him to the front step of the complex. It's hard to see the buttons for the buzzer, but the white-haired doorman in navy blue is in there. He stops me right at the door.  
"Just here visiting my mom," I tell him.  
"Oh, okay," he replies, and then steps out of the way to let us inside of the lobby. I amble over to the elevator doors and, using one hand to hold onto her again, I reach out to push the button.  
Joey sets down his things and raises his arms over his head to stretch his back.  
"I feel like I'm gonna puke," he groans.  
"It's alright, baby, we're almost there. She lives on the second floor, too, so it's not like we're gonna walk very far."  
The silvery doors open for us and I step inside of the car first. Joey picks up his things again and trudges in after me. The color has drained from his face.  
But he pushes the second button for me and the doors close before us. He pants and sighs from the feeling. And Lily is proving to be too much for me at the moment, such that my arms are beginning to tremble and shake from being worked so much.  
Within time, the doors slide open, and I lead him out of the car, and down the hall to the second door on the right. Using my free hand again, I knock on it three times. There's silence, silence except for Joey breathing hard right behind me.  
The door opens and my mom answers, complete with her long flyaway black and silver hair down past her shoulders and her dark eyes which I inherited, wrapped in a heavy black shawl and a pair of matching slippers embedded with glitter. The other thing I inherited from her was her love of the dark and glamorous.  
"Hi, Ginny!" she greets me with a big beaming smile; her face softens as she eyes her in my arms. "And Lily!"  
"Hi, Mom, can you take her for a minute please?"  
"Oh, of course!" I lean Lily into her arms so I can help Joey, but his brown eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses grip on all of our things. He faints right into the doorway; Mom lunges out of the way to let him fall face down right on the carpet. His black curls sprawl out from his head.  
"That's Joey," I tell her, feeling the smile cross my face. She lifts her gaze at me to show me her quizzical expression.  
"I broke up with Ben," I explain, picking up my things as well as his and bringing them inside of her cozy apartment.  
"Oh, really?" She strokes Lily's back, but this whole entire time she continues to sleep.  
"Yeah. It was... it was getting bad between me and him. He was drinking a lot and I tried everything I could to get him to stop, and he just... he just wouldn't."  
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."  
"It's alright. I've got Joey now."  
We stare down at him laying there on the floor: I have to stare at his butt and the backs of his thighs.  
"He's been working really hard today," I continue.  
"I can tell," she chuckles. "Here, you worry about him. I'll take care of her."  
She doubles back into the main bedroom, and in turn leaves me alone with Joey. I push his feet out of the way of the door and close it just enough to give us some privacy from the outside hallway. I carried Lily up a flight of some stairs and down a city block: I can carry Joey into the guest bedroom.  
Indeed, I put my arms underneath his chest and lift him up closer to me. His black curls dangle down towards the floor as I pick him up and shift him around so his face is pressed up against my chest. I reach down to put my right arm underneath the backs of his thighs and hoist him up in my arms. His hair is blanketing his face as I walk him back into the guest room.  
I lay him down on top of the smooth pearly white bedspread when my mom calls me from the front room. I amble out of the room to find her holding a small velvet box in one hand.  
"I was going to send you this," she begins, "but since you're here right now, I'll give it straight up to you."  
"Thank you, Mama," I tell her, taking the box and opening the lid to reveal teardrop shaped silver hoop earrings with dangling charms on the bottom curve: a pair of matte red and black dice, a duo of rich red cherries, two shiny silver five pointed stars, and a little red and silver heart at the center of it all.  
"Oh, my God, these are beautiful!" I declare.  
"And since you have a new man in your life, you can show them off to him," she says with a grin. I put my arms around her and hold her for a moment.  
"Gladly," I assure her, pulling back to look into her face.  
"Now, go get some sleep, sweetie. You look tired."  
"I am. And yeah, I'll show these off to him when he wakes up."


	25. the shelf, the room, and the kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut warning*

_October 1, 1986. Brooklyn, New York_.  
I had put the box of earrings on this little shelf over the headboard of the guest bed before taking off my clothes and climbing in next to Joey. I helped him take off his shoes and his coat before I slid in under the covers.  
I snuggled up next to him to hold him around his shoulders and then bury my face in his chest. Even exhausted and laying on top of the covers, he still manages to stay warm and soft to the touch.  
When I wake up in the morning, he's still on top of the covers, but I have a plan for him as I wriggle off my panties. We danced in the dark, but now I have to have my moment in the sun, in all of its early morning gray glory.  
I push part of his black curls back from his serene sleeping face and I give him a light kiss on the lips. He doesn't wake.  
He doesn't wake even when I gently push him onto his back: his head rolls about on the top of the pillow and strands of his hair fan out from the back of his head over the case.  
I climb out from underneath the covers: crawling about in my underwear, I hover over the band of his jeans and undo the button. I tug down his pants to reveal some skin. I give him some kisses on that little happy trail of fine and nappy black hair on his dark skin first and then I tug down some more. He's a little big, but he's big enough for me to have a little something before breakfast.  
I give him a good feeling up with one hand as I poke and stroke and make him rise up a little more for me. And then I open my mouth for a taste.  
He groans in his throat as I go in as deep as I can go for him. I pull my head back and keep my eye on his face. I know he can feel me.  
I take another taste of him and once I pull my head back again, I lift myself up onto my knees and put my right one into the inside of his left thighs. I'm sure this would be easier if he was the one kneeling but I'm trying to wake him up as I pick up his slender legs and set his ankles down on my shoulders.  
I sink forward with my legs spread open and then move back. I gyrate my hips into his: surely this has to wake him given he's the one with the length.  
Indeed, he lifts his head and gazes down at me with a puzzled look on his face.  
"What the hell's goin' on?" he stammers, eyeing his feet resting upon my shoulders.  
"Let's get down, baby boy," I coax him; I notice we're near the edge of the bed.  
"—oh. Oh, okay."  
I lay down on my back while still holding onto his ankles.  
I let go to let him stand up. I lift up my knees towards my chest and spread just enough for him. He shows me his tongue once he drops his pants and holds onto my hip.  
I feel him fingering my clit with two fingers.  
"Even doves have their pride, baby doll," he breathes in a husky voice.  
I feel him starting slow. He then picks up the pace and my heart starts pounding hard inside of my chest. I stare into his brown eyes as he leans over my body: the ends of his curls brush over my chest.  
"Don't you dare play with me, you bad boy," I whisper to him.  
"I think I should tell you that, my dominatrix," he retorts to me in the breathiest voice ever. I playfully shove him off of me: he falls onto his back there on the floor.  
I climb over his hips and squat over him. I gyrate my hips as I'm squatting.  
"Ah, building a chandelier with the Italian Injun I see," he remarks in a broken voice.  
"Nah, that's different. Unless you want that, big boy."  
I throw myself back into a crab walk position and spread for him. He's about to rise up over me when I hear Lily crying in the next room.  
"Are you kidding me?" Joey sputters, bowing his head and leaning against the side of the bed.  
"Nope." I fetch up a sigh. "I've gotta take care of this."  
I climb to my feet and search around for my panties, my bra, and my clothes. Once I'm dressed, I head into the next room. I need my time alone with Joey, but Lily's calling for me. I take a seat at the edge of the sofa bed to comfort her, that is until she falls back asleep again.  
At the point in which she does, Mom already woke up and is now brewing coffee for us. She's always the one person I could always take to whenever the going got rough, but I never could bring myself to it when I was with Ben. Once Lily's fallen back to sleep, I head into the kitchen. She's in her black silk pajamas and holding a black bone china mug of coffee with a kiss of cream inside.  
"'Morning, Ginny," she greets me, taking a sip of coffee.  
"'Morning, Ma—" I glance around the room. I don't know if Joey went back to bed or not but I need to come clean with her about everything whether or not he did.  
"Mom, I have to confess something to you," I start.  
"Oh? What is it, sweetie?"  
"And... I feel bad for doing this, too. But when I broke it off with Ben, I broke it off. I left Seattle and I came out here to live out my dream of a dancer in a bohemian setting. I should also tell you I—"  
I fetch up a sigh.  
"—I cheated on Ben with Joey. But I just couldn't take it anymore. I tried helping him and he kept refusing it." Mom leans back in her chair with one hand on the top of the table. I did something bad, but it was for my own good. If she wants to give me a tongue lashing, I'm ready for it. I'll take whatever comes my way.  
"Does... Joey know at all?" she asks me in a soft voice, much to my surprise. I let out my breath with ease given that was close.  
"He doesn't, no. But should I tell him, though?"  
"Tell him," she begins, fetching up a sigh and bringing her coffee mug to her lips again, "when you feel the time to be right. Tell him that your old home life was in shambles and you needed an escape, and you took Lily with you because he isn't one to care for her, obviously."  
"But that's the thing, though," I continue as she sips her coffee. "Joey's... Joey's got enough on his hands already. I don't want to enter his life and bring my kid in with me. He's still kind of a boy himself—he's gonna be twenty-six on the thirteenth. I don't want to do that to him."  
"Well—actually that's a good point now that you bring it up. Your dad and I were well into our thirties before we had you. You know, we grew up with The War, The Doomsday Clock, and McCarthyism, so there was always that possibility that if we had any children, they would have to live with the end of the world. Now, since Lily is your daughter and Joey is this fabulous new young buck in your life—twenty-six? Hardly a boy anymore, honey, but then again, your dad was more worried about owning his own house when he was that age. I wasn't even in the picture yet! You also have broken dreams that you want to live again because that's what makes your heart sing. But it only makes sense that you're at a crossroads right now. It's understandable that you're lost."  
"And I have to confess another thing to you, Mom. I kinda—and I can't believe I'm saying this, either—I kinda wish I didn't have Lily with me. You know, it could just be me and Joey."  
She blinks several times at me.  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. I just—" I close my eyes. "I dunno. When I was in school, I always thought of myself as being the glamorous dancer without any kids."  
She knits her eyebrows at me as if trying to figure me out.  
"And Joey's from upstate, too," I continue, "so it's not like he'll see her often even if he wants if I stay here in the City."  
"He's from upstate?" She seems genuinely shocked by that.  
"Way upstate. I forget what the town's called—he can probably fill in for me—it's out by Syracuse, up on the shores of Lake Ontario. Way the hell up there. And—he's... he's a musician to top it all off, too. A singer for a heavy metal band."  
Mom smiles and shakes her head.  
"You and rock n' roll boys, I swear," she remarks. "You get your love of the dark from me, after all."  
"I really do. So—you know, up until now, our relationship's just been nothing but sneaking around and whispered phone calls."  
She nods her head at me. On one hand, I'm surprised and even comforted that she's taking this very well. But on the other hand, I'm still expecting to receive a lashing from her. A "how could you cheat on your husband like that!" in some fashion, and the awkward pause right here is not helping matters.  
"I see," she gingerly begins, "—the two of you want some time to yourselves."  
"Yeah. And..." I shift my weight. "I kinda wanna go upstate, too. He tells me it's really beautiful up there."  
"It's especially gorgeous this time of year, too," a voice from behind me says. I turn around to find him standing there in the doorway, right behind me, with his pants back on. His disheveled long curly black hair dangles down over his shoulders and onto his chest.  
"Hey! How long have you been standing there?" I ask him.  
"Long enough to hear about your feelings about Lily and me," he answers with a sly smirk upon his face. He ambles into the room to put his arms around my waist and rest his chin on my shoulder.  
"My goodness, you two kids are in love!" Mom declares.  
"I think Ginny's hot and heavy stuff," he remarks with a raise of his eyebrow and a gentle toss back of his hair.  
"And I think of Joey as like a dark prince ready to take me away," I follow it up.  
"So not only are you luscious in your dancing, but you're luscious in your description of me, alright!" I laugh at that.  
"The town I'm from, by the way, is called Oswego," he fills in.  
"Oswego—" Mom echoes, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. "Oh, Oswego! I know where that is! I've had several clients from there come down here recently for commissions. That _is_ upstate, too, my goodness. But let me guess, Joey—you wanna take her on a trip up there for a peek around."  
"I do—" He lifts a hand from my hip to wave a finger at her. "I never caught your name."  
"Catherine, but I go by Cathy."  
"Cathy! I do, yes."  
"Well, if it's to help my daughter get her life together and live out her dream, I will more than allow it. I also want her to have the relationship with the man she loves that I was unable to have with her father. Also—" She turns her attention to me.  
"Don't worry about Lily," she assures me in a whisper. "You kids have your time alone, I'll watch her and make sure she's good."


	26. the great escape, the doc martens, and the third dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Yeah, the back of the roadhouse,  
>  they've got some bungalows.  
> They dance for the people  
> who like to go down slow."_  
> -"Roadhouse Blues", The Doors

_October 11, 1986. En route to Oswego, New York_.

Mom kept her promise and let Joey and me drive out to Oswego for his birthday while Lily stayed in the apartment in Brooklyn. We took her car since everything is within range of her apartment and she doesn't drive much anyway. She also lent me her spare pair of red velvet Doc Martens since it's supposed to snow on Monday, Joey's birthday. But I'm wearing them on this trip because I want to look cute for him on the way there.  
Prior to leaving for the trip, I put on my earrings and I hadn't shown them to Joey yet. When I put them on, I swear little hearts popped up in those big brown eyes at the sight of them. I also put on my dress for him but I have something else up my sleeve for him once we reach his place.  
At the moment, we're riding along this two-lane highway somewhere before Syracuse: we just crossed over the chilly looking torrential waters of the Susquehanna River. The leaves on all of the trees are changing color to those rich tones orange, scarlet, and yellow, and the sky overhead is painted gray from the incoming clouds over the lake before us. When we stopped in Binghampton for fuel, Joey wanted me to get the both of us some hot chocolate to add to the feeling. The one downside is the service station didn't have those little marshmallows.  
He's huddled next to me in the seat in his fitted little leather jacket and snug jeans, the same ones that accentuate his legs and his hips; he has his knees raised up and he's spread wide open for me.  
At one point, I teased him for sitting like that, insisting that I'm driving and I can't hold onto him at the same time.  
"You just can't resist me, can't you?" he retorted.  
It's definitely the truth: it's a four hour drive all the way up to his neck of the woods, beyond Syracuse and through all of this lush forest, and it's four hours of my having to resist fondling him between the legs, feeling that snug denim stretched over his crotch.  
By the time we've cleared Syracuse and we're in another hour more of isolated stretches of forest, I have an itch to pull over onto the side of the road and make out with him in the trees here. His groaning in his throat and shifting his weight there in the seat next to me isn't happening matters, either.  
"Jeans too tight for ya?" I tease him.  
"Maybe," he retorts, sipping the rest of his hot cocoa. "That's for me to know and for you to find out." He nudges his hair back from the sides of his neck; I take a glimpse over at him to find that hickey I had given him never went away.  
"Something tells me you want another bite," I remark, returning my attention to the road before us.  
"Again, that's for me to know and for you to find out," he repeats; I flash another glimpse at him in time to find him winking at me.  
"By the way, you promised me a lap dance," he adds.  
"I did! Maybe those jeans are getting a little too tight."  
"Yeah, I'm about ready to unbutton these—" he confesses.  
"You oughta just forget unbuttoning all together and take 'em off."  
"Now where's the fun in that?"  
"'Cause when you take off your pants, you can show me those sexy legs of yours."  
"Yeah, but what if I wanna show you my belly button and not my legs?"  
"Show me your belly button and you're just begging to get all kinds of sexy, sensual kisses there, baby boy."  
"You mean 'naughty' boy."  
"Naughty baby boy," I correct myself, flashing another glimpse at him in time to catch the mischievous grin on his face.  
"I think we both can just wait," I tell him, raising an eyebrow at him.  
"Ehhhhhh—"  
"Oh, come on. Be patient, you bad boy."  
We sink back into silence as we pass through Three Rivers. Blankets of pure white are now covering some of the trees around us, but I know it's not snow.  
I can feel it growing colder and colder as we near the edge of the lake: my jacket is in the back seat but I put it back there because it wasn't that cold back in the City when we left. I shiver and bring my arms closer to my body as we go around a bend in the road.  
"Are you cold?" he asks me, putting his empty cup in the center console between us.  
"Yeah, it's a little chilly here," I confess to him, "even with the heater on."  
He runs his fingers through the curls on the side of his head and then he turns around in the seat to reach back into the seat. I keep my eyes on the road as he reaches for my coat. I lift my fingers off of the edges of the steering wheel when I catch the sound of the fabric rustling.  
"Lean forward," he tells me. I do that and I feel him laying it over my shoulders. I glance down for a moment to put my right arm first, and then, once I have my hand back on the wheel, I put my other arm into the sleeve. Once I have both hands on the wheel, I peer over at Joey's lap again and his thighs spread apart again. He unbuttons his jeans once he notices I have my eye on him.  
"You know what?" I begin. "Just for that. Just for being such a sweetie now—"  
I reach over to lift up his shirt to fondle his warm skin with the tips of my fingers. I've got one hand on the wheel and the other on his waist.  
"You wear painted-on jeans and cheap-o boots and still drive me wild," I remark to him.  
"My work here is done," he jokes.  
I still have my hand on him as the signs for Oswego enter our view. I drop my hand down onto his crotch by the time we're on the hilly outskirts of town. He squirms at the sensation but I know he loves it.  
I pulse my fingers every so often to get directions out of him.  
And soon, we're at his little nondescript-looking apartment complex within range of the shores of Lake Ontario; the sky is dark with rain clouds at this point.  
We're both eager to run up to his front step and head into his cozy, warm flat to hide away from the world for the weekend. Once the door is closed behind me, I set down my things and rub my upper arms from the crisp chill that surrounds us.  
I look around the front room, at his shabby but quaint sofa tucked in one corner next to a record player, and a heavy wooden armoire up against the wall to my right, before the entrance to his tiny kitchenette, and a short hallway in front of me.  
"Welcome to upstate New York, darling Virginia!" he declares, holding out his arms before the wall in front of me. "Better known as the great escape from the City. It's not much, but it is in fact home to me."  
I peel off my coat and hang it up on the hook next to the door, and next to his little leather jacket. I turn back around in time to find him putting something on his record player. There's a pause and then I hear the slight scratch of the needle.  
I bring a hand to my chest when I recognize it's "Oh, Sherrie" from Steve Perry. He whirls around, such that some of the more flyaway strands of his hair fan out.  
"May I have this dance?" he asks, extending out his hand for me. I lunge for him, the soles of the Docs padding on the soft carpet underneath us. I take his hand and press myself up against his chest to smell his cologne.  
"Yes, you may," I whisper into his face; I close my eyes to take him in. He puts his left arm around my lower back, and I set my left hand right on his butt. Every so often, he sings a piece of the lyrics for me in a breathy voice, right into my ear before he presses his lips onto the side of my neck.  
"Who do you wanna turn on first, me or you?" he asks upon twirling me. He tugs me back towards him, albeit with my back to him.  
"You tell me," I whisper into his face, swaying my hips a bit once I feel him there. I can feel the taut denim from underneath my skirt. Or perhaps it's taut from something else.  
He holds still for me.  
I sway my hips a bit more, this time with some more focus on the tops of his thighs. I can feel him right up against my butt. I rub harder against the tops of his thighs. Once I feel him right in between my own, I turn around real quick to run my fingers down his chest. I then press my own chest up against his, so he can see down the neck line.  
"Shall we take this into the next room?" I ask him in a husky voice.  
"Please," he begs me, "and keep those Docs on, too. Let's get kinky."


	27. the pearl of venus, the drops of rain, and the three words

October 13, 1986. Oswego, New York.

I wake up on the morning of Joey's birthday to the feeling of his waist underneath my arms: I have my hands upon his bare chest. His skin is smooth and silky to the touch, and the sprigs of hair growing in the stretch of skin in between his nipples feels like caressing chenille. I take a whiff of his hair at the back of his head.

I refuse to let him go. There is no way I want to return to Seattle or even to Brooklyn. I want to lay here with Joey in my arms forever. I'm his, and he's mine, and that's how I want it to be forever. I found my pearl necklace that I lost in the ocean of having lost Bonzo and letting Journey and INXS slip away. I'm about to harvest the fruit of this fledgling romance. Add to this, his bed is warm and cozy, tucked here in the corner underneath his large poster of the Beatles, his hockey mask, and a big bright green dream catcher with a butterfly charm in the middle. It's as if he had long expected me to come home to him.

I'm gentle to kiss the side of his neck. I take in another whiff of his skin and his hair before kissing him again. That time makes him stir in response to the feeling.

"Good morning," I whisper into his ear. "Good morning and happy birthday, baby boy."

He groans in his throat and shifts his weight within my arms. I drop my hands down the middle of his chest and the even softer skin making up his gorgeous flat belly.

"Would you like me to blow your candles out?" I whisper into his ear again.

"Blow my—hm?"

"Y'know. It being your birthday and all."

"You just wanna make up for the fact I didn't on your birthday," he grunts out, twisting his neck back so he can look at me; but his eyes are still closed.

"Maybe I do," I tease him, running my finger along the line of hair running down from his chest to his belly button.

"That tickles," he giggles.

"Good. I want to tickle you—" I wriggle my fingers on his belly and he rolls onto his chest to get away from it. He then rolls back onto his side and then onto me. He squints at me through bleary eyes and shows me a playful little grin.

"I'm so glad you're here with me now," he says.

"I am, too. I wanna fill this flat belly with so much cake."

"Cake, like how you wanna light up some candles and let me put the frosting on?"

"Yes, please."

A pattering sound catches my ear.

"It's raining," he remarks.

"Oh so perfect," I whisper, holding him tighter.

There's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind, one that tells me something is missing. But nothing is missing: I'm with Joey here in upstate New York on his birthday and that's all I can ask for at the moment. Sure, we're not on tour at the moment, but this is something I have dreamt, I have desired, I have wanted more than anything ever. Laying here with Joey is part of my dream come true, and I know this is something that he's wanted as well.

But I can't help but feel this way. Something is missing.

My daughter is missing.

I need her here with me.

But I swear that I don't in fact need that part of my life anymore. I am swimming in my dreams at the moment.

But she is the one part of that old life that I can't leave behind. I took her from Ben because he would rather drink himself into oblivion instead. To leave her behind with my mom in Brooklyn would be a betrayal of her.

I have these thoughts on my mind as I'm making Joey a stack of pancakes, one accompanied with powdered sugar and butter. I try not to let them distract me from spending his birthday with him but it nags at me even as I’m piling on the stack of five onto a clean plate with the sugar and butter.

I watch him eat as I have a cup of coffee. It’s eating at me so that I can’t hardly drink much less enjoy the warmth and the full flavor of the mug. I think he notices because as he’s working on his third cake he clears his throat like he’s going to say something.

“Hm?” I ask him.

“Wha?” he replies with his mouth full.

“Where you gonna ask me something?”

“Yeah, penny for your thoughts? You’ve been awful quiet since we got out of bed.”

I clear my throat as I hold the mug up to my lips.

“Thinking of your gentle skin and your hips—“ I take a sip. “—and your dick.”

“Yeah, you’d like some of that once I’ve got my gullet stuffed to the brim, don’t ya?” he teases me with a smirk; he lifts his fork and inserts the tines into his mouth. He’s slow to pull back the fork: he gazes in at me all the while. His brown eyes are so deep and earthy, hypnotic and rich as they swallow me whole.

He’s seducing me. I return the favor, bowing my head to the side and pressing my upper arm against my breast.

He keeps up the slow eating; at one point, I twirl a strand of hair around my index finger. He takes one final bite accompanied with a tilting back of his head to show me his neck.

“Alright, let’s go, birthday boy,” I coax him, putting the mug on the counter behind me.

“Here or in my room?”

“Here.”

He sets the cleaned plate on the counter behind him and I crawl up onto the table. I lay in my back and tug down my pajama bottoms for him. He climbs on top of me.

And I lay still.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me.

“Huh?”

“Is everything alright? Usually you’re a little kitten but now it’s like you’re frozen.”

I close my eyes. Indeed, I’m not even feeling it at the moment. I miss Lily too much.

“Ginny?”

"My old life is calling me back," I lament. "Why did I have a child. Just... why."

I climb off of the table and rush out of there into the bathroom across the hall from the bedroom. I bring my hands to my face. What is wrong with me?

"Ginny?" he calls out to me.

I don’t answer.

“Ginny?”

"What."

I lift my head to find him standing in the doorway next to me with his hands clutched before his middle. The look on his face is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

“I need to take time to Lily,” I confess to him. “We can’t be together. I can’t.” I feel the tears erupting from me. “I just can’t!”

“Oh, Ginny!” He throws his arms around me and I bawl right into his flannel shirt. I want to hide away in his warmth and his softness. I need him. I need this all to stay real.

"Know that I'll always love you,” he whispers into my ear; I feel his lips on the side of my neck. “I love you."

"But I want you, though!" I insist to him. I do in fact want him. I want to be by his side as Anthrax rise in the world of music, not just as the girl dating the lead singer but the dancer. The dancer making serious head way in the world and is also dating the lead singer. I pull back to gaze up at him as the tears are burning my eyes and streaking down my cheeks.

"Yeah, but—" He shifts his weight.

"What?"

"You've got her instead," he points out. He holds onto my shoulders and closes his eyes. “Okay, first of all, I don't know Lily. And—I need to confess this, too: when you told me you have a daughter, my heart sank. I thought you were this great single girl living in the Emerald City who wanted to live out her dream here in New York, and so to hear that you had a kid was like a swift kick in the nuts for me. I thought you were a clean slate, trying to get your life together kinda like how I am. Kinda like how the five of us are, I should say.”

He opens his eyes to stare off to the side.

“The five of us are young bucks eatin' out of cheap buffets and cheesy diners, and tryin' to get our shit together and so when we met you, it put me at ease, like there's someone on the outside who feels the same as we do. I saw myself in you up until then. And then when you said that, I thought 'ah, shit. She's gotta kid? Well, so much for that.' I dunno. I just—" He closes his eyes again.

"I just—I feel really weird about all of it. I don't know any other way to say it. And second, she's a part of you, like how I'm a part of both my mom and my dad. She's a part of you and the guy whoever got you knocked up. I'm just some dude trying to toss his dick in you because—I like you. I think you're sexy. I never thought I'd be going out and messin' around with a dancer, and one who wanted to dance for Zeppelin and Journey no less! But it's not like you and I are Siamese twins."

"Joey—" The tears well up even more at all of this.

"Ginny, listen to me." He tugs me closer to his body. He stares right into my face: his brown eyes are big and brimming with tears, too. "I'll be fine here. Alright? You go home to your mom and Lily and get your life together. Unless we hop on a big bus like Metallica's and hit a patch of Swedish ice, which—I doubt it, I don't think any one of us are gonna be riding buses any time soon.” He sniffles and I watch a single tear streak down from his left eye.

“I don't wanna lose you,” he says in a voice so soft he almost breathes it. “And I wish you and I could be together. And I want you. Badly. But I can't handle this. Okay, come here—"

He pulls me in close to him. His body quivers and shakes from crying. His fingers creep up my back to the base of my head: I feel him stroking my hair.

"Look at it like this,” he starts again, his voice breaking, “I'll always be here.” I look up at him again. “You can always come back to me. You can always come back home to me."

I stare right into his big brown soulful eyes, those black diamonds I fell in love with.

"You can always come back home to me," he whispers into my face.

“And I will come home to you,” I promise him. “I’m staying here in New York. I’ll come home to you before you know it.” He moves his face closer to mine.

"I love you," I breathe into his lips.

"I love you, too," he breathes back.

It’s our most powerful kiss because I know I’ll be home soon enough for him. I have Lily to tend to at the moment, but I know life will be good for us here, with Anthrax in the picture and Joey awaiting me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The metaphor there is that guys only ever go down on their birthday (or at least that’s what the Sopranos taught me)  
> Anyways I wanna thank you all for reading. Onward 😘

**Author's Note:**

>  _"You're a shooting star I see, a vision of ecstasy.  
>  When you hold me, I'm alive.  
> We're like diamonds in the sky;  
> at first sight I felt the energy of sun rays.  
> I saw the life inside your eyes.  
> So shine bright, tonight, you and I...  
> we're beautiful like diamonds in the sky.  
> Eye to eye, so alive.  
> We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky."_  
> -"Diamonds", Rihanna


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